mt-home

[slutofpsh]

strip for me.

pairings: hyung line x reader

synopsis: hyung line got you trapped in a situation that you can’t get away from.

warnings: smut, bullying (not promoting violence or bullying), degrading, dirty talks, curses, masturbation, hyung line being mean.

slutofpsh 2024 © all rights reserved.

“strip for me.” heeseung looked so bored as he utter those words towards you.

your tear stained eyes grew wider at what he said. he stared down at you with blank eyes as he leans over the teacher’s table. the look on your face silently begs him. he showed no remorse as he just stayed silent.

it’s your break time and you’re on your way to the cafeteria when you stumble with heeseung and his friends. they dragged you towards one of the vacant classrooms in your school, making sure its isolated enough so they can do their ‘little’ fun.

when heeseung saw that you’re not complying and just stood awkwardly, his eyes darted over his friends. they moved, approaching closer.

“you heard him, sweetheart.” jake sim pressed himself over your side, lips slightly gracing your ears. his hot breath fanning you as he lick his lips.

your heart thump in fear because of them.

“p-please...” you mumble too softly, scared and yet doesn’t want to oblige.

heeseung and his friends has been secretly doing this to you. bullying, sexually harassment, degrading and so on. you forgot when did they started, but its been too long. you can’t even remember what you did wrong that made them this mad at you.

“please what, princess?” park sunghoon came into your line of sight, smirking so wide giving you a full show of his handsome face and this sexy fangs of his.

“please help you to strip?” shivers run down your spine when you heard the low voice from behind you. it was park jongseong and he’s pressing his hard chest on your back, hands resting at your hips.

“what? got so dumb already that you forgot how to take off your clothes? you’re so pathetic.” jake chuckles at his insult and even bite your shoulder.

you whimpered in pain and just shut your eyes, resisting the heat that slowly forming in you. this isn’t right. you should hate them and be ashamed of what’s they’ve been doing to you. but what is this? you can feel heat rushing down the space between your legs.

“strip, y/n.” heeseung’s cold tone snapped you back to reality.

you looked at him and the placid look on his face scared the shit out of you. between him and his friends, he’s always been the calmest. you’ve never seen him go out of control unlike the other three. jay once warned you not to piss him off, or you will really see hell rise.

“there we go!” jake cheers as your shaking hand slowly reach for your necktie, untangling it.

with tears still streaming your face, you saw heeseung watch carefully with his cold eyes. he glanced at his friends once and they all pulled out their phones, started to record you.

it made you halt, with anxious eyes. sunghoon smirks while staring at you through the screen of his phone.

“go on, baby. strip for us.”

your eyes darted at heeseung and he gave you a small nod. maybe it was the fear or just the want for this moment to be over, you started taking off the buttons of your uniform. one by one, their eyes filling with lust for you.

once you finished unbuttoning all of it, sunghoon pushed you down on your knees. heeseung kept leaning on the teacher’s table, watching carefully.

“w-what...” you asked confused, eyes stinging a bit from crying too much.

“just stay put and enjoy the fucking show, slut.” jay growled, pulling out his dick. you shut your eyes and glanced away.

sunghoon took a hard grip over your jaw and made you look at jay’s direction.

“don’t be like that and give his cock a kiss, princess. we don’t taught you to be disrespectful.” he says.

you tried resisting but his hold is too strong. your lips touched jay’s tip and he smiles widely. jake’s cock then come into your view, he still have his phone on his other hand, recording. he smirks sexily while holding his shaft in front of your face.

“give some respect, baby.” he mumbles and slowly you make your lips touch his throbbing tip.

“fuck, so pretty beside my cock.” he says watching you through his screen.

next one is sunghoon, he’s the mean one. he grabbed your jaw making you face him impatiently, groaning at the sight of your tear stained face.

“giving us attitude today princess? we don’t appreciate that.” and he made you kiss his tip as well, almost shoving it inside your lips.

“break time’s almost over. hurry up.” heeseung’s monotonous tone rings to your ears making the three younger boys whip their heads towards his direction.

he’s still at his position, eyes staring and watching intensely at you. he looked so intimidating and you can’t even complain. you can’t even tell anyone about this because these boys will get away easily from this giving that they’re all from very influential families.

it was no use. you have no choice but to submit to them.

the three boys surrounds you while you’re still down on your knees, uniform open showing your baby pink lacy bra.

they started stroking their hardened cock. groaning and moaning your name, like as if imagining shoving it inside your holes. jake’s hand moves faster and rough, jay’s taking his time and sunghoon’s just like jake. they all look so full of lust while eyeing you. their phones still taking a video recording.

it was odd. this is not the first time they masturbated in front of you, but this is the first time they record it. and you’re scared on what’s the purpose of it.

“fucking slut! you belong to us.” jake groaned, seems like finally reaching his climax.

“you will always be for us, y/n. just for us.” jay.

“dumb bitch doesn’t use her brain at all.” sunghoon spats.

tears kept streaming down and you tilt your head, trying to hide from their phone but it was no use. they’re positioned in every angle.

“f-fuck, i’m close. let me cum inside your mouth sweetheart.” jake steps closer and put his dick near your face.

your eyes glanced at heeseung and his dark eyes automatically made you open your mouth. jake placed his cock on your lips and soon, his hot seeds spilling out from it. he moans loudly, keep stroking his dick to dry all of his cum.

“me next. i want it on your chest.” jay groaned and jake stepped back a little while still stroking his dick, riding his high.

jay positioned in front of you and spilled his cum on your chest. it made a mess to your bra and a little on your uniform.

“i want my cum on your pretty face. let me paint it with my cum.” sunghoon then came after, spilling his hot thick cum on your face.

they were all groaning and chasing their breaths while still looking down at you.

“take a pic.” heeseung commands that they followed. they took multiple shot of it and you’re head too fuzzy to even think and care about it.

you probably look like an absolute cum dump.

just in time the bell rings and you hurry to stand up. you are about to wipe the cum off your face when jay handed you tissues.

“fuck you hoon! you made a mess.” he complained and gently helped you removing it from your face.

they’re all treating you badly, but sometimes, just sometimes, jay seems so sweet. caring if you want to describe it properly.

jake handed you your necktie while sunghoon stared from a distant, his dark cold eyes fixed right at you.

“what are we going to do with the pics, hyung?” jake asks heeseung when he starts to walk towards the door, ready to leave.

you looked at him with teary eyes.

he glanced at you before looking at jake.

“send it to beomgyu. that will let him know that she’s off limits.” and he left the room.

your heart sank at what you just heard, unable to even say anything. jake chuckles, really excited about the idea. he kissed the side of your face while unlocking his phone.

he flashes you some of the pics and it was horrible. you full of their cum while eyes full of tears.

“next time you plan on flirting with another guy, think of the consequences. okay princess?” sunghoon says dangerously.

“he’s right. remember,” jay brushes some of your hairs that got stuck on your forehead because of sweat and some of sunghoon’s cum, “you only belong to us.” and he leans to place a kiss at your lips.

[jwnzlvr]

pretty

kinktober 2024 !! day one : fingering

pairing : park sunghoon x reader

summary : pretty boy fingering you.

wc : 900+

warnings : SMUT (mdni), fingering, teasing, hand kink lowk (highkey), cum eating

notes : first drabble back from the dead !! i hope you guys enjoy this, i really did try my best even with writers block lmao also i love hoon’s fingers they’re so pretty and yummy and MMMM

the cold air of the room made you shiver. you were fully exposed to sunghoon, your legs wide and your panties down. he held a predatory gaze as he looked down at your wet pussy.

“fuck… you need me that bad?” he muttered as he used his index and middle finger to spread your folds. the sight of your hole made him lick his lips. meanwhile, you nodded eagerly at his question.

you couldn’t get the image of his pretty hands out of your head. sunghoon on his own was just so pretty. throughout the whole day, you imagined those hands touching you, fondling you, slowly slipping down your dripping slit to tease you. you’d waited enough.

sunghoon almost grinned at how eager you seemed. his fingers moved up to your clit and tapped it softly. “words. speak up, love.” he instructed with a soft voice. it was smooth like honey, making you leak some more.

“want you so bad, hoonie! i’ve been wanting this all fucking day…” you whined as you looked into his eyes. you felt your need for him increasing by the second. and sunghoon couldn’t be more satisfied with your answer.

his fingers trailed back down to your wet hole, circling it slowly. he spread your slick all over with a toothy grin. his fangs poked out of said grin. he looked so fucking hot. “my pretty girl’s been wanting me all day? poor you, waiting for me for so long…”

he dragged his fingers up and down lazily as he spoke. he took pleasure in seeing your squirming, in hearing your small pleads for him to do something. anything.

“i guess it’d be mean for me to keep you waiting, wouldn’t it?” he asked in general. he didn’t except you to answer him as he moved his two fingers to your hole once again. you were so wet from his earlier ministrations that he slipped in with little resistance.

you let out a small sigh when you felt his fingers fill you up. you looked down at where his fingers disappeared inside of you. the small clench of your pussy around him let sunghoon know how much you loved this.

“you’re so warm, baby… can’t wait to have my dick in you.” he said as he began to slowly drag his fingers in and out of you. along with your small sounds of pleasure, there was a slight squelch. you were absolutely soaking.

his fingers began to speed themselves up after a few seconds. he knew you liked it from the way your sounds became a bit louder and your pussy squeezed him. “you like that?” he asked in a teasing voice. he already knew you did. but he still wanted to embarrass you just a bit.

you nodded once again, small whines being dragged out of you. he smiled and kept his fingers moving. he would occasionally court them just a bit. enough to make you moan but not long enough to make you cum from it.

“hoonie…” you whimper out at his movements. he looked up at you through strands of his inky black hair. he had a proud smile at your current state. your eyes slightly rolling back, your pussy dripping wet, and your small moaning calls of his name.

he didn’t respond to you. his other hand reached up to your neglected clit. with his thumb, he began to rub small circles onto it. the action made you give him a loud whimper. he couldn’t help the small laugh at your reaction.

he didn’t stop his movements. if anything, he only sped up. “too much?” he asked in between his laugh as he watched your eyes roll back completely. he was so mesmerized at how you looked while he fingered you.

you couldn’t even answer his question anymore. the pleasure was too overwhelming. maybe it was the pent up desire you had for him that made you feel like you’d reach your high soon. each movement of his fingers in you or on you made you want to sob.

sunghoon could feel the way your walls began to quiver around his fingers. he knew you so well. he knew you’d cum soon. he didn’t say anything about it, only speeding his movements up a bit more. he was so sure he’d get a hand cramp soon but it was worth it for you. he’d let his hand ache for a while just to see you cum around him.

the increased speed seemed to push you even closer to the edge. it was there, right there. and when he moved his fingers in you to hit another spot in you? it was over.

without any warning, you began to cum around him. a cry of his name your lips as you threw your head back in pleasure. “fuck! so good, so fucking good.” you moaned out as you kept cumming.

sunghoon watched you in awe as you came. the strain in his boxers only increased by watching you cum. he didn’t stop his movements as he fingered you through your orgasm. it wasn’t until you had to push his hands away that he stopped.

sunghoon stepped back from you, slipping his fingers out of you. they were absolutely drenched in your sticky, white cum. he mindlessly put the fingers in his mouth to clean himself off. “you always taste so good…” he whispered around his fingers as he licked himself clean.

you watched in complete arousal as he did that. your eyes began to trail down to his lower part. the boner he was sporting was so obvious and it almost looked painful.

wordlessly, you hopped off of your bed and got on your knees in front of hoon. “thank you, hoon. now… let me return the favor.” you spoke seductively as your warm hands slipped past the waistband of his pants.

he was definitely gonna finger you more often.

➯ kinktober 2024 m.list

[getoslamb]

Kinktober Day 2 - Vampire! Gojo

contains: nsfw content (mdni), fempov, pnv (unprotected), creampie, biting/marking, blood drinking, oral (reader receiving), fingering, teasing, he calls you 'dove' - for more kinktober here - wc: 4.1k

The room was bathed with golden, warm candlelight dancing across the walls. The air was thick with tension-one brought about by too much pent-up desire. You felt the intensity of Satoru looking at you with those icy blue eyes which pierced through the dim lighting, fixed only on you.

His interest in you had always been apparent, even when you didn't know what he truly was. Now, with full knowledge of him being a vampire, everything fell into place: how observant of you he always had been, keenly aware of your presence. It was in the hunger visible behind his gaze whenever he was near. It wasn't just infatuation.

This ran so much deeper and darker.

You were pinned beneath him now, his body cool against the heat of your skin, his lips grazing your collarbone in teasing, measured touches. Each scrape of his lips sent a shiver down your spine, but the way his teeth skated over your skin was what really got your heart racing.

"Your pulse," Satoru breathed, the low huskiness in his voice sending a thrill through you. "I can hear it. I can feel it." He pressed a cold hand to your chest, over your heart, his lips grazing your neck as he spoke. "It drives me insane."

His mouth trailed down your throat, gently kissing and running his teeth softly along the skin but never breaking it. He left little hickeys in his wake until your breath caught in your throat. The feeling was intoxicating, this threat of pain and pleasure all mixed together into something you couldn't resist. He was always this way: hungry, obsessed, dangerously possessive when it came to you.

And there was no mistaking how badly you wanted him too.

"Satoru…" you whispered, your fingers curling into his hair as you pulled him closer, almost like you were daring him to bite.

He chuckled softly against your neck, the low sound sending chills along your spine. "You want it, don't you, dove?" he murmured, his lips brushing the sensitive spot where your pulse thrummed just beneath the surface. "You want me to bite you."

It wasn't a question. He knew. He always knew.

His fangs teased the skin, teasing and taunting with promises of what would be. His hold on you would tighten as his hand slid to the small of your back, pressing against yours, his cold skin so very far away from the growing heat inside.

“You drive me crazy," he whispered huskily, frustration and longing breaking through in his voice. "I just can't get enough of you."

Then, without a second of hesitation, he plunged his fangs into your neck.

The sharpness of the bite had you gasping, your body taut for that instant the pain hit, but it quickly melted into something else-something much darker, a great deal more pleasurable. You let out a small breathy moan with just the sting of his bite. His fangs drove deeper, drinking from you with a hunger that was endless. His other hand held onto your hip, holding you in place possessively while he drank from you, needing it just as much as you wanted it.

The feeling was overwhelming, the pain evident, but the way his mouth moved across your skin, the way his tongue tasted the blood that spilled was nothing short of intoxicating. It had been some sort of drug, the pain and pleasure melting into one another so fluidly that you couldn't tell where one ended and the other began.

He leaned back an inch or so, his lips red with your blood, his eyes dark with hunger. He looked at you as if you were his, as if no one else could ever have you, and that possessiveness made your pulse quicken.

“You taste so fucking heavenly,” Satoru said softly, his voice thick with desire as he leaned in to press a blood-stained kiss against your lips. The metallic tang mixed with the taste of him, made you dizzy, your senses overwhelmed by the intimacy of it all. “I could do this forever.”

His hands roamed over your body as he kissed you deeply, the primal hunger in him, gently tugging your bottom lip with his fangs, a silent reminder of the power he had over you. But it wasn't just about power; it was about need, a need that was his obsession.

He leaned in and started kissing down your neck, his lips trailing over the bite mark he had left, licking at the blood still trickling from the wound. It was almost too much, the tenderness of his touch, the soothing of his tongue against the pain. Every moment with him was a contradiction, the danger and the ecstasy, the fear and the love-blurred together.

“You are mine” he whispered, his tone low and possessive, before he nipped at your skin once more, this time softer. “No one else can touch you like this.”

His words, laced with dominance, sent a rush of heat through you. Your hands moved almost on their own, slipping under the fabric of his shirt, tracing the firm muscles of his chest. His skin, cold but electrifying, made you crave more, needing to feel him, to pull him closer. 

Your fingers wandered lower, your touch bolder as you ran them over his abdomen, but before you could go lower, Satoru’s hand caught your wrist. A low hum of laughter escaped his lips as he looked down at you, eyes gleaming with mirth. "Ah," he teased softly, smugness laced within the tone. "A bit eager, aren't you, dove?”

His fingers clutched your wrist firmly, yet didn't hurt you, holding you in place as his eyes stared into yours. "I didn't think you'd be this desperate for me already," he whispered, leaning in so close his breath ghosted your lips. “But then again… You always seem to lose yourself when I bite you.”

Your cheeks flushed, but the desire in his eyes mirrored your own. You couldn’t deny how badly you wanted him, especially when his touch made every nerve in your body ignite. Still, you squirmed under his hold, trying to free your hand, and he loosened his grip just enough to let your fingers slide down his body again, tracing the hard lines of muscle. His body tensed slightly at your touch, but that only fueled your need to feel more of him.

Satoru’s smirk widened as he watched you, his eyes darkened with lust. “Tsk, tsk,” he clicked his tongue, his other hand brushing a lock of hair away from your face. “You’re so impatient, darling.”

His teasing voice made you nervous, but it didn't keep you from reaching for him, trying to close the distance between your bodies. Your hand slipped lower and just as your fingers brushed the waistband of his pants, he was on you again pushing you back against the bed with a playful growl.

"So damn needy," he purred. "Do you want me that badly?" You could see the hunger in his eyes, but he was savouring this, relishing the control he has over you.

His hand slid down your waist, tugging your hips against his. "You’re practically begging for me, " he murmured, his lips against your ear.

“I don’t beg,” you managed to say, your voice breathless and defiant, even as your body betrayed you, arching into him.

He chuckled, clearly amused by your attempt at resistance. “No?” he murmured, his lips trailing down to the curve of your neck again. “Then what do you call this?” His fangs scraped lightly along your skin, enough to catch your breath but not to bite-not yet.

Your hands roamed over his back, desperate to pull him closer, feel every inch of him, but he was going at his own pace, teasing with every touch. He was right, you were practically begging for him, but there was something thrilling in the way he made you wait, made you crave each second of it that much more.

His fingers trailed across your skin, torturously slow in their gentleness, deliberate in every way-a show of control over you. “What do you want, hm? Tell me.”

“You know what I want,” you breathed, your voice coming out shakier than you intended, your hand slipping lower, smoothing over his bulge with bold need.

His eyes flared with a mix of amusement and hunger as you touched him, his jaw tightening. “Oh, I know,” he said, his voice low and teasing. “But I want to hear you say it.”

The playful smirk never left his face as he watched you squirm beneath him, your body aching for the release only he could give. He was enjoying every second of this—holding you just at the edge, making you admit how much you craved him.

You tried to hold back, but the way his hips pressed against yours, the friction he was deliberately denying, made it impossible. “I want you,” you whispered, the admission spilling out before you could stop it, your other hand pulling him in closer. “Please.”

Satoru’s lips curled into a triumphant smile, his eyes gleaming with victory as he finally let go of his teasing restraint. “Good girl,” he whispered, his voice dripping with satisfaction. In one swift movement, he closed the remaining distance between you, his mouth crashing against yours in a searing kiss, full of the passion and hunger he had been holding back in the prior one.

His hands moved quickly now, no longer teasing, as they roamed over your body, sliding beneath your dress to explore every inch of you. His touch was electric, sending sparks through your skin as he claimed you completely, his body pressing into yours with a newfound urgency.

Satoru’s lips left yours, his mouth trailing fire down the side of your neck, marks of his claim already showing. Each kiss he pressed to your flesh was filled with hunger and something darker. "You're mine," he whispered, his voice gruff as his fingers dug into the flesh of your thighs to spread them apart as he settled between them.

The change in him was palpable. The teasing was gone and in its place, a primal need that you could feel in the way his body moved against yours. His fingers danced over the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. He worked his way down, his lips followed the trail of his hands as he peppered small kisses down your body, taking his time with each touch as he savoured the moment.

The anticipation was nearly unbearable, your body trembling beneath him, craving more of his touch, more of the way he made you feel like nothing else mattered but him. He chuckled darkly when he felt you press into him again, desperate for the friction that only he could give. “So eager,” he murmured, his voice laced with that same smug amusement, even as his own desire became harder to restrain. “Look at you... already falling apart under me.”

His words sent a shiver through you, but before you could respond, he lowered himself between your legs, his lips hovering just above your panties as he licked a stripe along the fabric, “You want me to take you like this, don’t you?” His fingers traced the outline of your folds through the already damp fabric, teasingly light, enough to make you gasp but not enough to satisfy the growing need inside you. “I can feel how badly you want it.”

You nodded, breathless, barely able to form words as his fingers pressed against you more firmly. “Yes… please, toru,” you whispered, your voice a broken plea, your hips bucking up against him.

He growled low in his throat at the sound of your voice, at the way you begged for him, his eyes darkening with raw desire. “That’s what I like to hear,” he said, his voice rough and edged with satisfaction as he tugged the cotton fabric to the side, a finger sliding along your slit, drawing a moan from your lips.

He slid a finger inside you, not  facing much resistance as you were already soaked for him. The pleasure was immediate, your body responding to him as though it had been made for him. You gasped as he quickly added another finger, the two working inside you with deliberate precision. He was relentless in the way he touched you, each movement calculated to drive you higher, to make you fall apart under his control.

“You’re divine,” he whispered against your core, his tongue darting out to follow the path his fingers had taken, working through your folds with an intense hunger. “Every part of you… is mine.”

His tongue moved in slow, deliberate strokes that had you clutching the sheets beneath you. The sensation was overwhelming, the combination of his mouth and his fingers driving you wild, each flick of his tongue sending waves of pleasure through your body, leaving you aching for more. He momentarily withdrew his fingers to spread your folds and flatten his tongue along your pussy, not daring to miss a single part.

The noises were obscene as he sucked on your clit eagerly, it was the same desire he felt for the blood that ran through your veins but amplified tenfold.

Satoru groaned against you, the sound vibrating through your core as he increased the pace, his fingers slipping back inside, moving in tandem with his tongue, each movement pushing you closer to the edge. Your hands flew to his hair, tugging at the white strands as you arched against him, your moans growing louder with every passing second.

“Satoru,” you whimpered, his name spilling from your lips in a desperate cry as the pressure inside you built to an unbearable level, your body tightening, trembling under his skilled touch.

He chuckled darkly, pulling back just enough to look up at you, his mouth slick with your arousal, his eyes glowing with satisfaction. “Not yet,” he teased, his voice low and full of control as he slowed his movements, keeping you on the brink of release without letting you fall over the edge. “You’ll come when I say.”

The frustration mixed with pleasure made you groan, your hands gripping his shoulders as you tried to pull him closer, needing him to push you over the edge. But Satoru wasn’t ready to let you have that release yet, his hands stilling as he kissed his way back up your body, leaving you teetering on the brink of pleasure.

His fingers slid from inside you, and you could feel the loss immediately, your body aching with the need for more.

Before you could whine in frustration, he tugged his boxers down, freeing his cock, the tip looking desperate to be touched. He pressed his hips against yours, his cock, hard and throbbing, grinding against your soaked core. Your body reacted immediately, hips bucking against him as you sought the friction, but Satoru moved at his own pace, teasing you with every slow, deliberate thrust.

He watched you with dark, hungry eyes as you writhed beneath him, completely at his mercy. "Tell me you love me-" he whispered, his voice quiet as he rocked his hips against yours, barely giving you what you needed. "Say it

“I do” you gasped, your nails digging into his back as you tried to pull him closer, needing more of him, needing him to finally give you what you were craving. “I love you, I swear-”

His smirk returned, and with one swift movement, he positioned himself at your entrance, his eyes locked on yours as he slowly pushed his cock inside you, inch by agonising inch. The feeling of him filling you completely made your back arch off the bed, a moan escaping your lips as he buried himself to the hilt.

His lips crashed against yours in a bruising kiss, his hips stilling inside you as he drank in the sound of your moan, swallowing the noise. His hands gripped your waist with a firm grip that you knew would leave a mark, pulling you closer as though he needed you pressed against him in every possible way. 

The pressure of his body, the way he filled you completely, left you gasping for air, desperate and overwhelmed by the intensity of it all. Just as you began to move, trying to create some friction between your bodies, he growled low in his throat, his hands stilling your hips. He wasn’t done with his control, his game of teasing you to the edge. 

His mouth moved from your lips to your neck, trailing slow, deliberate kisses down the side of your neck. You could feel the heat of his breath on your skin, and the anticipation made your pulse quicken, knowing exactly what was coming.

“You’re never leaving me,” he whispered, the words like a dark promise as his fangs brushed your skin. His hips rocked against you slowly, dragging out the pleasure until you were trembling beneath him, your body a mess of need and desire. “And I want to make sure you know that.”

Before you could even respond, his fangs sank into your neck, sharp and deeper than the first time, the sudden bite sending a shock of both pain and pleasure through your body. You cried out, your fingers digging into his shoulders as you clung to him, the sensation overwhelming. It was almost too much—the feeling of him inside you, his teeth piercing your skin, his tongue lapping at the blood that spilled from the wound—it all blurred together into one, making you dizzy.

His slow, deliberate pace became more frantic, more primal. He thrust into you with a newfound intensity, each movement driving you further toward the edge as he drank from you.

The pain of the bite faded quickly, replaced by a dizzying pleasure as he sucked at the wound as his hips snapped against yours with a ruthless rhythm, his cock hitting all your sweet spots, the pleasure borderline bruising your insides. Your vision blurred as you felt yourself completely lost in him, lost in the way he claimed you so thoroughly, the way he held you.

You moaned his name, your voice breaking as you felt yourself nearing the edge, your body tightening around him as you clung to him for dear life. Every nerve was on fire, the pleasure of him inside you mixing with the lingering sting of the bite.

Satoru’s growl deepened as he felt your body tighten around him, your moan echoing in the room like a melody only he could hear. His hips moved faster now, the once deliberate rhythm replaced by a primal, uncontrollable need. Each thrust was harder, deeper, his pace relentless as he drove into you with an intensity that left you gasping for breath.

The pain from his bite had long faded, replaced by the heady pleasure that coursed through you with every pulse of his hips, every time his fangs dragged against your skin. His mouth never left your neck, his lips stained red with your blood as he licked and sucked at the wound, drinking from you as though he could never get enough.

Your body was completely overwhelmed by the raw, consuming pleasure that left you trembling beneath him. His name spilled from your lips again and again, a broken, desperate sound that only seemed to fuel his desire. He groaned against your skin, the vibration of his voice sending shivers down your spine, his hands gripping your thighs and spreading your legs further apart as he angled deeper, his cock hitting spots you didn’t even know he could.

"That's it," he purred, his voice rough with hunger as he pulled back just enough to look at you, his gaze wild and dark. His eyes, clouded with lust, locked with yours, and there was something almost feral in the way he smirked. "Let go for me."

You could barely speak, the intensity of his pace robbing you of words, but the way you clung to him, your nails digging into his shoulders, was all the answer he needed. Your body moved instinctively with his, meeting his rough, demanding thrusts as he pushed you closer to the edge, every movement making the knot of pleasure inside you coil tighter and tighter.

"Come on, dove" he urged, his voice low and commanding as he felt you trembling beneath him. His lips found your ear, his breath hot against your skin. "I want to feel you fall apart."

The intensity of his words, the way his hips slammed against yours with a ruthless pace, was too much. The pressure inside you finally snapped, pleasure ripping through you like a storm. Your body arched against him, your nails raking down his back as your release consumed you. His name spilled from your lips in a breathless cry, your entire body shaking as waves of pleasure crashed over you.

Satoru groaned deeply as he felt you clench around him, his grip on your hips tightening as he drove into you with even more force, chasing his own release. His thrusts became erratic, his breath coming in harsh pants as he lost himself in the feeling of your body, the sound of your moans, the taste of your blood still lingering on his tongue.

With a final, deep thrust, Satoru buried himself inside you, his release hitting him hard as he groaned your name against your neck. His body shuddered against yours, his fingers digging into your hips as he filled you completely, thick ropes of cum shooting as far as they could, his pace finally slowing as the last waves of pleasure coursed through him.

For a moment, there was nothing but the sound of your ragged breathing, your bodies still pressed together as the intensity of the moment lingered between you. Satoru’s lips brushed over the bite mark he had left on your neck, soothing the wound with soft, tender kisses, the possessiveness in his touch still palpable even in the aftermath.

Your body was still buzzing, trembling slightly beneath him, but there was a strange sense of peace in the way he cradled you now, in the aftermath of all the intensity. You couldn’t find words, your mind still reeling from the storm he'd unleashed inside you, but your hands moved instinctively to stroke his back, your touch soft and affectionate, grounding yourself in the feeling of his skin beneath your fingers.

Satoru sighed against your neck, his breath warm and soothing as he finally lifted his head to look at you. His pale blue eyes, clouded with the remnants of desire, held a certain tenderness now—something soft and possessive all at once, like you were a treasure he’d keep forever.

“You’re mine,” he whispered again, his thumb brushing over the mark he’d left on your neck, as though to remind you of his words. The intensity hadn’t left him; it was there in his gaze, simmering beneath the surface, but there was a sense of devotion too, that made your heart clench.

You gazed over at him, feeling the weight of his claim, not just in his words but in every touch, every kiss he pressed against your skin. You were his, in a way that no one else ever could be, and somehow that possessiveness, that dark obsession of his, made you feel safe in his arms.

Satoru chuckled softly, leaning up to press a final kiss to your forehead. "I’m never letting you go, you know that?" His voice was low, filled with a promise that made your heart race all over again, despite the exhaustion settling into your bones.

You smiled softly, your hand reaching up to cup his cheek, your thumb brushing over his lips stained with your blood. "I wouldn’t want you to."

His smirk widened at your words, that cocky confidence returning to his features as he captured your lips in another kiss. "Good," he murmured against your lips, his voice a low purr as he pulled back to meet your gaze again. "Because you’re mine forever."

As he held you close, his arms wrapped securely around you, you realised that there was no going back. You were bound to him, just as much as he was to you, in this endless cycle of obsession, hunger, and love. And with the way his body curled protectively around yours, you knew he would never let you forget it.

taglist:

@waffless-simp-blog @l0v3m3-p13as3 @hishearttohave @crybabysiri

@jays-adventure3 @nctislifue @eeveedvck @needtoloveoutloud

@sweetpo1son @betelgeuse420 @yuhig-blog @psychedellyc @char-35

© getoslamb ↣ do not copy or translate any of my works

[lovelybluebirdie]

The astonishing failure of a simple plan

Astarion x f!Reader

Summary: Astarion tries to wrap his head around you, when a sudden tumult in camp occurs.

[AO3]

The concept of altruism had always been quite strange to Astarion.

Doing something solely for benefiting others, without one's own needs primarily in mind – how outrageously foolish. 

And yet, he caught himself considering the idea more often since he had met you. 

You, the soft-hearted soul who always seemed to stumble directly into the next best opportunity to solve the problems of complete strangers that would cross your way – gladly interfering with any sort of personal drama. 

Although you and the rest of your travel companions had been infected with a tadpole to the brain, leaving you in desperate need for a cure to this rather urgent condition, somehow you would always manage to save a child from getting gruesomely killed by harpies, pick a fight with a powerful hag to rescue some random woman you just met or annihilate an entire camp full of goblins to ensure safe travels for a bunch of Tieflings – without at least demanding a proper compensation for all your troubles. 

You just did those things, and it drove Astarion mad.  

Perhaps one of the reasons for your undeniable saviour complex were the recurring thoughts that plagued you. You had once explained it as particularly dark urges, the impulse to hurt and kill spreading its roots inside your brain, evolving into a yearn to act out the most gruesome visions one could imagine. Gloriously kill an innocent to bathe in their blood, crush a squirrel to death with your bare fists or rip off a stranger's hand in need of help – malicious ideas that would otherwise never cross your mind.

The origin of these unwanted desires were unknown to you, but you sensed that it had to be connected to your past somehow – a part of you that had yet to be completely revealed. Of course, you had sworn to give everything in your might to resist them. And luckily for the life of your travel companions, you were mostly able to succeed.

Regardless of these murderous tendencies coming with your affliction, you were still the kindest person Astarion had ever met. A contradiction in itself, and yet you were – well, you.

Lately, Astarion had caught himself just perceiving you. 

Taking in your soft expression as you were mindlessly humming a song to yourself, sitting barefoot by the river, hands elbow-deep in the cold water to wash your clothes, sticking this stupid little melody to his head for the rest of the day.

While resting at camp, he had watched you reading – one of your favourites, the lexicon of bird species in Faerûn – a terribly boring topic, but you seemed to indulge in the lengthy descriptions of a blue jay’s wingspan. You would fetch Astarion a caught smile between slowly turned pages, eyes half-closed, before eventually dozing off in the flickering light of the fire. He had barely been fast enough to catch the edges of your slipping book, saving it from landing in the dirt.

The other day, he noticed you carefully picking flowers from the road, acting like it was the most important task on your schedule. Later, you would sit in silence, brows furrowed in concentration and hands busy with knotting them into a beautiful headband. A gift for Karlach, since you had sensed that she hadn’t been too well on this particular day.

A sickeningly sweet gesture.

And yet, so typically you. Affectionate, always looking after your dearest companions.

He remembered the feeling of you casually squeezing his shoulder after an exhausting battle, the concerned look you would give him as you noticed that he had been injured, and how you insisted on treating his wounds with the utmost care, not leaving his side before you made sure his bleeding had entirely stopped.

There was the sensation of your fingers gently forming circles through his white curls, while he had buried his fangs deep inside your neck, greedily gulping down the blood you had been willingly offered to him. The quickening of your pulse, the little shivers your body would give away as he was feeding on you. 

Your thumb shyly placed against his brow, the tender movement as you traced his features. The sincerity in your voice as you described the outlines of his face to him, after he had shared with you that his lack of reflection had turned the image of his own appearance into a dark shape from his past. Profane vanity was all he had initially seeked from you that evening, listening to you calling him beautiful and stroking his ego, and yet there had been a certain intimacy resonating in that moment. You had described to him what the world would see when it looked at him – what you would see. 

Astarion groaned and pulled his blanket up to his chin, almost covering his bottom lip with the thin woollen fabric.

Gods, how you irritated him. 

How you had infested his mind with your nauseating goodness. 

When you first met, Astarion had decided that precisely this outstanding character trait of yours should be your undoing.

You offered an easy prey, he had thought to himself in a blissful glee, as he imagined all the ways in which he would bargain your trust. 

Luring and deceiving were practically moulded into him, therefore charming you appeared as easy as picking the lock on a broken chest. In order to survive under his former master Cazador, he had become an unwilling adept in these abilities. 

Astarion flinched as the memory of his ruthless tormentor reentered his mind. Cazador had turned him into a vampire spawn almost two centuries ago and made him his slave, forcing him to a life in complete darkness and made him use his body to bring more than thousands of victims to him.

In order to deceive you, Astarion had formed a rather simple plan: Seduce you, sleep with you, manipulate your feelings so you would never turn on him – old habits that cemented over the past centuries had kicked in.

Therefore, it should have been easy with you. Instinctive. Following a pattern of studied behaviour, throwing his best lines at you until you would breathe his name between tousled sheets - leaving your body aching for him and trusting him unconditionally.  

All he had to do was follow this nice little plan of his, deepening the selfish bond he aimed to create between the two of you in order to secure his safety. To get you on his side. 

It should have been nothing more than an insurance. A simple transaction, so to speak: His honeyed words for your protection. Performing an act, yourself delightfully unaware of your leading role in this little play of his.

Well, and what else could it ever be? After all, manipulating others in order to get something out of them was the only way he had ever known. 

And yet: with you, things had somewhat felt entirely different.  

At least, his plan had evidently borne fruit by now: Not only were you voluntarily offering your blood to help him with his cravings after he had revealed his past of being a vampire spawn, you had also sworn to help him finding out the meaning of the scars on his back and dealing with Cazador when the time would come.

Still, instead of savouring his accomplishment he found himself distracted with his attempts to wrap his head around you. 

Sometimes he wanted nothing more than to peek inside this little skull of yours, picking your brain until he would satisfy his curiosity with you and determine the reason why you were lingering on his mind of late. 

He wanted to figure out what made him actually want to listen to the things you had to say, admire your wit when you would share a heartfelt laugh over one of your foolish jokes or why he would seek your company after a night spent in familiar solitude. And even worse: Why in the Hells he had caught himself enjoying how your face would light up after you had saved another unfortunate soul in need on your travels. 

Astarion sighed and pushed his fingers to his eyes, hoping that pressing them shut would free him from his vexing thoughts, as a sudden noise distracted him.

The pounding of hurried footsteps and jumbled voices rose outside his tent, growing louder and faster.

He let out another disgruntled sigh.

Gods, what would it be now?

Whoever was roaming around your camp this late at night, screaming like an animal, better had a rightful reason to do so.

His annoyance fell off immediately as he came to understand what the unfamiliar voices were yelling: Your name. Followed by pleas for help.

Before he even comprehended what exactly posed this sudden level of urgency, his feet had already dragged him outside in the dark, a cold breeze brushing against his skin.

“What is going on?” he heard his own voice meddling into the sudden tumult. 

Then he spotted you: Arms and legs hanging lifelessly, brought down on your bedding by one of the Harpers he remembered from the Last Light Inn. You were followed by a few other Harpers who positioned themselves around your tent - they were desperately shouting for a healer.

An icy grip twisted Astarion’s chest as he stormed forward to reach you, stomping through mud and dirt.

“Is she hurt?” His voice broke as he saw your face. You were lying on your blanket, eyes rolling behind closed lids, cheeks all flushed and a thin line of sweat forming on your brow. You looked utterly terrible: Weakened and sick, seemingly in a feverish delirium. 

Astarion had seen you wounded before, due to blood and gore being in the nature of your journey to free yourself from the tadpoles, but never like this: more dead than alive, not moving a single major muscle.

What in the Nine Hells had happened to you?

Astarion swallowed hard before he found his voice again and turned to the ones who had brought you in.

“What did you do to her?” he hissed, readying himself to grab the Harper next to him by the throat and shake him until his tongue would loosen. “Explain yourself, now!”

Before any of the men could open their agape mouths in response to Astarion’s daunting request, Shadowheart broke the heated atmosphere with a soft push to his shoulder and made way to kneel beside you. 

“Let me see her.” She spoke quickly as she felt for your pulse and started to spread her hands protectively over you, encompassing you in a blue radiance. She was already casting a healing spell.

“Your friend, she… she was fighting a shadow creature, and it must have poisoned her,” the Harper that had carried you pressed between quivering lips. “We already sent someone to call for Isobel. She will know what to do.” As he met Astarion’s furious glimpse, he hastily added “They – they should be here any minute.”

Poison? Astarion wrinkled his nose. Indeed, your blood smelled different – somewhat tainted. 

He focused his gaze back to you, suppressing the urge to slap that damned Harper straight across the face. 

Instead of acting out this violent thought, he sank to his knees next to Shadowheart and carefully laid one hand on your cheek. You were burning hot and letting out ragged breaths between your cracked lips.

“I can cast my spells, but I am not versed in the toxins of the Dark”, Shadowheart declared with the most tensed look on her face, her magic still hovering over your body. “We need Isobel – fast.”

Another twist in Astarion’s chest. He racked his brain for a solution, his hand still held helplessly against your cheek. You were in need of healing, desperately, and more adept than Shadowheart could provide. His senses began to blur.

Through the pulsing sound of blood rushing through his ears he could only gather a few scraps of the enfolding conversation between the Harpers and the rest of your companions that had hurried to your aid.

It was enough to paint a picture of what happened to you: During your night watch, you had noticed a Harper being dragged away in the shadows and went immediately to his aid. With a few quick blows, you had managed to kill the attacking creature and save the unfortunate man from his demise, but for its final act it stroked you with its claw, leaving a deep scratch on your right arm – the source of the suspected poison that would flow through your veins. 

Astarion bit the inside of his cheek, spilling blood. His mind was racing. 

Of course you had gotten yourself in danger over saving someone else again. 

In normal times, he would have loved to tease you for your foolish act of heroism and give you an “I told you so”, probably earning a defiant look from you while you would emphasise the importance of helping those in need. 

Hells, he desired nothing more than to listen to your moralising if it meant that he could just hear your voice right now. 

But instead of lecturing him on morality, you were still lying on your mattress, unmoving and probably on the verge of death, and he couldn’t think of a single way to rid you of this terrible state.

He felt numb. Useless. It made him sick.

A gut wrenching thought rushed over him. 

What if you would die right now – just like that? 

Before he could… Well, before he could do what exactly?

The image of your limp lifeless body with dead staring eyes entered his mind.

No. You didn’t deserve to die. You couldn’t die. Not like this. Not now, not ever, not from saving a goddamned Harper.

Then you whimpered. 

Silent, almost inaudible, but enough to set Astarion ablaze. 

The urge of punishing every single one who had dared to lead you to harm overcame him like a ruthless wave crashing shore. He wanted to cut open, to rip apart and to send everyone into eternal hell.

Fire took over his crimson eyes as he bared his fangs, the look of a predator on his pale face, ready to curse those wretched Harpers or worse, as another quiet sound spilled from your lips.

“As… Astar... ion…?”

He froze.

His name – spoken as gentle as a flicker of moonlight glistening through leaves. Not moaned in lust or used to denounce him in anger – just… him being called, in the most faintest way. 

He felt his eyes wet before he even knew it, his mouth opened for a split second only to his lips pressing it shut again, forcing himself to blink before a single tear could make its way down his cheek.

You sounded so fragile. So ... in need of him.

“Asta...rion?”

His chest twisted again.

He wanted to whisper words of comfort to you, chanting them over and over like a prayer, assuring you that everything would be alright.

“Don’t speak,” he managed to breathe in a cracked voice. “I’m here, my sweet.”

Your eyes were still closed and moving fast underneath your lids. You spoke in a fever, and he could sense that you were in pain. 

Astarion brushed a strand of hair off your sweaty brow, using just the tips of his slender fingers. A most careful touch, as if a hint of deeper force would break you. 

Then, there was no more sound coming from you.

“Hells, where is that goddamned cleric? If she doesn’t arrive here any second, I’m going to drag her over myself-” Astarion’s voice was nothing more than a helpless plea. He sounded way less threatening than he had wished for, almost spilling those tears he had to hold back, and seconds before bursting if there would be no aid for you right now.

“No need to shout, my friend. I’m right here.”

Isobel. Finally. 

A fire in his stomach again.

How dared she sound so calm, considering your condition?

With haste, Isobel knelt between him and Shadowheart and opened her pouch, revealing a set of different sized bottles. She began to examine you with concentration, lifting your eyelids to look at your pupils, checking your vitals and thoroughly inspecting the wound the monster had inflicted on you. 

Astarion gritted his teeth in anticipation, a thick lump forming in his throat. 

“Will she be alright?” he eventually demanded, his voice cracking like a violin out of tune, but Isobel ignored him and silently continued her treatment. 

“Astarion, I’m worried about her too, but I think we shouldn’t disturb Isobel right now,” Wyll interfered softly and squeezed his shoulder. 

Taken aback, Astarion pressed his lips together. Of course Wyll would be the voice of reason in a situation like this, but unfortunately he wasn’t wrong. Isobel was the most profound healer available, an expert on the shadow creatures - and unlike himself, she offered the possibility to save you.

“As I thought,” Isobel mumbled after a minute that had felt like eternity and opened one of her potions with a loud plop. “She will need this.”

She then put her thumb on your chin, carefully opening your mouth and pouring in a dark liquid, before she continued to clear your wound. 

Astarion eagerly watched her hands treating you with expertise, still not laying his gaze off you.

“I gave her a powerful antidote,” Isobel began to explain calmly as she spread a colourless balm on your torn flesh. “Such poison needs fast treatment. Fortunately, if dealt with in time, it can still be cured. I’m glad I was able to aid your dear friend before it made its way through her entire body. Otherwise… It most likely would have been fatal.”

Astarion’s muscles tightened and his stomach turned. You almost died tonight.

Isobel seemed to notice his tension, so she quickly added “With this antidote, she will be completely fine in the morning. Her fever might continue through the night, but I promise that there is no more reason for concern.”

“Are you completely sure of that, Isobel?” Shadowheart asked, seeking out reassurance that the treatment truly had succeeded.

“I swear by Selune, she is not at risk anymore. The antidote freed her from the poison and the balm will heal her wound,” the cleric responded confidently. “Her body will do the rest.” 

The tight, dark blanket that had wrapped around Astarion’s chest began to loosen up.  

“I… I’m glad that she’ll be alright,” was all he managed to vocalise as the adrenaline slowly faded from his body.

“Thank you, Isobel,” added Gale, who had been nervously walking up and down your tent as Isobel had tended to your condition. 

Even Shadowheart, a devoted follower of Lady Shar, spared a few words of gratitude towards the cleric following her sworn enemy’s beliefs.

A general sense of ease took over from the strained atmosphere that had prevailed just a moment ago.

“She needs rest and quiet now,” Isobel claimed and gave a telling look to your companions and the assembly of Harpers that gathered around your tent. 

An unspoken demand that it was time to give you some space now.

*

“I will stay with her,” Astarion announced to Shadowheart and the remaining group after Isobel and the Harpers had left for the Last Light Inn. There had been a quick discussion if you should have been brought with them, but eventually it was decided that you were more safe in your own bedroll than being dragged through the shadow infested lands again. 

“Are you sure, Astarion? I’d be more than glad to watch over her myself,” Shadowheart responded, not hiding her surprise over his proposition.

Even if Astarion wasn’t sure about anything in particular right now, he felt the pressing need to remain by your side until you would open your eyes again, ensuring that Isobel had spoken the truth and the threat had passed. 

“Well, I won’t be able to get some more rest tonight anyway, so I might as well just stay over here,” he attempted in a more indifferent manner. “Besides, her tent is by far the most comfortable one our excuse for a camp has to offer, and I’m looking forward to indulging in some peace and quiet after all of this night's terrible trouble.”

Karlach listened to his explanation in slight amusement and gave him a supporting nod. Liar, her smiling face said.

“Well, if you’re sure, and there are no objections… Then it’s fine with me, I suppose,” Shadowheart replied with a raised eyebrow. “But promise to shout for me if something’s the matter, will you?”

“Gods, would you please give me some credit here, you mother hen. I got this,” Astarion said and rolled his eyes. On the inside, he was still shaken up, and he could only hope that the slight pitch in his voice wouldn’t give him away. “So hush hush everyone, off you go now. Get in some  beauty sleep, as you all are evidently in need of it.”

“Chk!” Lae’zel interfered in the most angry whisper she could muster. “Leave Astarion to look after her for the night if he insists. I’m certain he knows the fate that will await him should she come to harm under his supervision.” Lae’zel’s very own way to express that she came to care about you.

“Charming as ever,” Astarion replied at this implicit threat, still holding no intention to move merely an inch from his spot next to your bedroll.

“You see, Shadowheart? There seems to be no need to worry about our dearest friend,” Gale added with a slight chuckle. “I suppose she’ll be in good hands for tonight.”

Shadowheart let out a grunt and readied herself to leave with the others, but not before she would lay one last gaze on you, ensuring that you had not gotten any worse over the last few minutes.

*

Astarion watched your chest rise and fall in a soothing rhythm.

What a mess this night had been.

From the moment the Harpers had brought you in it had been like a heavy weight violently crushing his chest over and over, turning him into an angry, scared wreck, and the pressure only began to wear off by now.

Realistically, he knew that you were safe and the danger had passed. But then, why was there such an uneasiness lingering on him?

He had been scared in his life before, probably more times than he could recall, and yet… The fear over losing you tonight had shifted something in him. 

You had called for him in your feverish delirium, as you were lying helpless and in pain. 

It was an image hard to shake off.

Astarion sighed, when he noticed that you were still in your armour. There was no way in Hell he would let you sleep in this reeking dirt-covered piece of cloth, so his dexterous fingers began to peel it off, piece by piece. Carefully not to wake you, he stored your armour aside, until you were lying in your undergarment. Then he took your blanket and wrapped it around you.

With another gentle motion, he let his finger stroke along your brow, brushing over the dampness of your skin. You were still feeling hot. 

His nose wrinkled as he pulled down his sleeve to cautiously wipe your sweat away. There was no need to get up to fetch some extra cloth, and he would be perfectly capable of cleaning his shirt the next morning.

For a while, Astarion would just watch over you, mustering your relaxed face and ensuring that your breathing continued steadily. You seemed to be in a calm sleep, still feverish, but evidently better looking than the moment you had been brought in.

The next morning came to his mind. Perhaps he might attempt to prepare your favourite food for you, a simple but apparently very delicious berry porridge. Not that he had any particular experience on the matter, since his culinary needs were restricted to blood these days, but if someone like Gale was able to cook it, he surely would be too. Maybe he would surprise you with the dog or the owlbear for some morning snuggling in bed, as you seemed to never spend a single day without indulging in some pets on your journey. Well, he probably should bring in both. Oh how delighted you would be, waking up to these furry little beasts, he thought with a grin. 

Then it hit him.

Shit.

His nice, simple plan with you had truly and utterly fallen apart.

What should have been nothing more than an insurance for his safety, a way to rid himself of the tadpole in his brain and offer him a powerful ally to face Cazador some day, had developed into something he never experienced before.

He genuinely cared about you - more than he thought himself to be capable of. You had become most precious to him, and he felt the urgent need to be honest with you. 

You were incredible, and you didn’t deserve to be lured into a selfish alliance.

You deserved something real. 

He wanted things between you to be something real - even if he didn’t know what real looked like. After all, charming and deceiving others was the only way he had ever known. Forming a sincere connection and being close with someone posed an entirely new and remarkably scary sensation. But maybe, with you…

Your faint voice brought him back from his thoughts. 

“Asta...rion?” 

His face softened, not as an act of will, more like a reflex.

You looked at him with half-open eyes, sounding still a little weak.

He bowed his head closer to you and spoke softly, letting his thumb brush gently over your cheek.

"There you are, my little fool. Getting ourselves in trouble over our constant need to do something heroic again, weren’t we?”

“Mh… Is that so?” you asked in a raspy voice, offering a weak smile through glistening eyes underlined with dark circles, your hair pressed damp to your skull. “And you saved me, I suppose?” 

Astarion’s heart grew tight with adoration. To him, you had never looked more beautiful.

“I’m afraid not, my dear. Actually, you have been poisoned by a shadow creature, so you were in need of a more adept healer. Isobel treated you.”

“Mhm.. How bad was it?”

He thought for a moment, the fear he had felt rushing over him for a split second and piercing his chest like ice. 

"Well, not as bad as it could have. I’ll spare you the details for tomorrow.”

“That’s… good.” You hummed, sounding drowsy and still a little feverish. Then, you gave a soft plea. “Astarion… Would you… stay with me tonight?”

There it was again, a pull at his heartstrings. 

Gods, you wicked little thing.

“Of course, my darling. I’ll stay as long as you need me.”

A promise, unimaginable honest had it been another time, with another person, but this was now, and this was you.

He gave another gentle press to your hand, carefully intertwining your fingers with his, as if to underline his words.

"Thank you,” you whispered, eyes closed for a second before you let your gaze meet his again. Another quiet mumble. "Could you... hold me please?"

Astarion was overwhelmed by your vulnerability for a second. He wanted nothing more than to provide you comfort, to make you feel safe, but didn't know if he should give in. Even though you had often shared your bedroll these days, this somehow felt more open, more intimate.

Before he realised what he was doing, he swiftly lifted off your blanket to slip underneath and laid his arm around your waist, pulling you in close.

He could feel your hand on his chest. Your head gently resting on his shoulder, fingers loosely clutching around the end of his collar. Your warm body against his cold.

Astarion let his fingers gently caressing the small of your back.

You were breathing steady, already seeming to doze off again. A soothing calmness came over him.

“I hope… I didn’t worry you too much,” you mumbled, more asleep than awake.

Astarion bit his lip.

“Well…” he said and cleared his throat. “I managed.” A complete understatement of events, but this was also a confession for another day. “Rest now, my love.”

Astarion continued to gently stroke your back, his lips turning into an affectionate smile. He never thought his heart to be this full over the failure of such a simple plan.

Masterlist

[honey-on-your-tongue]

COMING UP BABY,(I come as quick when I heard you doing kinkotber requests sooooo yYEA)

Miguel O’Hara x goodgirl!reader

KINK: hunting predator kink, overstimulation,and an slight breeding kink (idk 😃 i remember reading something like this so yea,where Miguel has an kink that he enjoys playing the predator,loves to see reader in fear,it make him “excited” 😏,loved to see reader so hopeless,so pitiful,and so vulnerable)

IDK IM SO SORRY IF IT BADLY EXPAINED 😭😭😭 BUT happy kinkobter ✌️✌️🫶🫶

Kinktober Day Four: Predator

Kinktober Masterlist

Miguel O'Hara x female reader

You heart races in your chest. You can hear it in your ears, can feel your lungs expanding with each quickened breath.

You're shaking slightly, hiding in an old, abandoned building behind what used to be some sort of desk.

You hear him walk into the room, heavy footsteps slow and quiet. His breathing is heavy, a rough, almost animalistic grunt leaving him.

You shudder where you hide, closing your eyes, trembling as he moves around the room.

Miguel knows you're here. He can hear your rapid breaths, can sense your racing heart. And he smells you. He can smell your fear and your arousal, making his own spike.

He takes a deep inhale, already knowing where you're hiding, but knowing that the more he scares you, the sweeter it'll be when he catches you.

His claws are out, his fangs at the ready. He can't help it. You drive him crazy.

He'd been a little reluctant the first time you two had done this little predator/prey role, thinking he'd scare you off. Instead, he was surprised and delighted to find how much you enjoyed it.

He walks closer to where you are, the smell of your fear growing, making his cock even harder. He stalks closer, laughing softly, darkly.

“I don't know why you bother hiding,” he says, voice low. “Did you forget I can smell you?”

You shudder, eyes popping open. He laughs again and leans over the desk slowly, smirking, those red eyes dark and sharp as he finds you crouched into a tiny ball.

“Perdiste, princesa,” he says thickly. You lost, princess.

He grabs you, pulling you to him. You gasp as he sets you down on the desk, moving to stand between your legs.

His claws dig into your hips slightly, a silent warning: you better not think about running right now.

He kisses you messily, eager, his mouth moving down your jaw, your neck. He bites you, relishing in the way you squirm beneath him. “Shh, princesa, ni siquiera empezamos.” We haven't even started.

He fucks you over and over, his cock buried so deep inside you that the thick head presses against your cervix. He keeps going even as you shake from your fourth or fifth orgasm.

“Miguel!” you whine. “Miguel!” It's the only word you know anymore. He's truly fucked you dumb.

“Shh, ya sé, princesa,” (I know) he says in your ear, fucking you hard and fast, barely resisting the urge to sink his fangs into your neck. “I'm almost done with you, baby. Just gimme a minute longer, hm? Gimme a chance to fill you up.”

You moan, trembling underneath him as another orgasm overcomes you. “Ahh!”

“I'm gonna give you a baby, princesa,” he says. “Do you want that? Do you wanna be full of my baby?” He chuckles against your ear. “Qué bonita te vas a ver con mi bebé adentro de ti.” You're gonna look so pretty with my baby in you.

He comes inside of you, delivering his thick, hot load deep in your cunt. You mewl lowly at the feel.

He kisses the tip of your nose, then your lips. He keeps his cock buried deep in you. He hopes, truly..he gets you pregnant. There's nothing he'd like more than to give you a child.

-----

@yagirlheree @sukioyakio @obi-mom-kenobi @celestia80s @manlikemilesmyguy @zaunsin @naniiiii12 @everlastlady @avatar-lover @siidmm @dhollandhs @spikedhe4rt @missing2socks @itzraven101 @miguelspookiebear @mochikomochisoft @sunset-euphoria @kishibeswh0re @m4dyy @icreatedthisat317am @keiva1000 @jakescumdump @ravisinghs-wife @tengens4th--wife @oceancerulean @pookiesmookie69 @juwandiko @aisyakirmann @ninebluehearts @vampireluvvr @saturnstringz @4imhry @iheartlinds @pigeonmama @eyweveng @braverthanthenewworld @livingwithinyou @switchiest @httpstoyosi @lyn-soso @6thhokageswife @normsdaughter-alt @thel0velykey190 @tojibreedingme @icouldntthinkofanythingclever

*if you want me to add you to my Miguel taglist, comment or send me a message <3

-----

[devilfic]

part two to this because I can't stop thinking about them

you're actually really good at this.

miguel can count on one hand, maybe a few fingers less than that, the number of times he's met his match. not many could keep up with him, could take a blow from the full weight of his fist and stay standing, but you can. and you're relentless.

he could be shaking with rage and by the time he's spent sparring with you, you're still grinning with all the energy you had from when you first started. it's the thing that really excites you, he notices: the thrill of the chase, the struggle, the victory and defeat. because he never sees you get like that unless he's taking you. to the mat.

you get this feverish look in your eyes that he doesn't know how to satiate yet, but he likes testing your limits the same way you test his. he likes seeing that excitement on your face, it makes him keep coming back for more.

until he splits your cheek open.

you hadn't calculated correctly, hadn't considered how close his talon would come to your face until it had torn the skin beneath your eye in two. the blood dribbles down your cheek.

miguel's eyes go wild. when he first felt the resistance against his claw, he'd thought of much, much worse. he'd stood there, hand hovering between the two of you in a stunned silence waiting for something worse to happen. he watched the red pearl at the cut, so slim that had it been anyone else, he wouldn't have even hesitated, "shit."

you touch a finger to the blood, smearing it, "it's okay, it's nothing."

it is nothing. to anyone else in the spider society, it would be nothing. the super healing would kick in and wouldn't even scar. and he'd seen you heal before, had left bruises on you that mended themselves within hours.

he presses his thumb to the cut. a bead of your blood sits on the surface of his finger, a reminder that as strange and wonderful and powerful as you are, you bleed all the same. you watch him, curious, "you can have some. if you want."

his eyes flicker to you with that same shock from when you'd first caught him off guard, "what?"

you gesture to his thumb, "my blood. I don't mind it."

miguel stares, "I'm not a vampire."

"that's what gwen called you."

"I'm... spiders have fangs."

you frown, "then why-"

"are you sure you're okay?" miguel asks, even though he sees for himself that the blood has stopped. soon, your skin would sew itself back together. soon, this wouldn't even matter.

you soften. you melt. miguel doesn't know what to do with all the warmth in your expression... "of course. I can handle you, o'hara. no need to be gentle." and there you go again. you know exactly what you're doing when you say those words and look up at him like that. he feels hot under the collar. he presses his thumb into your cheek and smears the blood even more, but you just laugh, "I knew you had a soft spot for me."

his grumble is meant to be a growl—a warning—but he comes off sounding like a puppy who's bitten off more than he could chew, "not in this universe."

part three

[heartfullofleeches]

Yan arena beasts/fighters + handler reader. Reader is an average human working at a zoo/shelters abducted and thrown into a life of caring for a galactic tyrant's playthings due to their experience with animals. Not an idea choice for the job, but with everyone who's had the job before being maimed, killed, or worse they were running out of options. Reader does the best with what they're given. They find solitude with the other captives to an extent and some of the more feral creatures remind them of stray cats and dogs they knew back home. They treat those who allow as those same poor creatures out of habit and to cope with their new life. Others are so aggressive they have to be blindfold and sedated to even get close. Reader still tries to comfort them despite the many scratches and bites they receive

A little mix up happens where a warrior meant to fight the big bad of the area had already been slain by the beast. With no alternative, reader gets sent out instead as sacrifice to appease the blood hungry masses. They cower in the corner as the beast's mask is removed, praying their battered body at least gets shipped home so they have a proper burial and their family has some clue to what happened to them. They cast their small dagger away still unable to defend themselves against what they only see as a frightened animal protecting its own skin. The beast lifts them off the ground like a ragdoll holding them high for the crowd to see as its fangs draw from its scarred lips - breaking the band around its wrist that would seal reader's victory.

The beast ties the rope around reader's neck as the announcer declares them victor by default. The crowd boos, but as the beast snaps the neck of one of the guards and throws the limb body into the arena their demands are met. Reader quakes from the sheer disbelief of the whole ordeal, and still being trapped in the beast's arms as it coos. It takes over a dozen guards to get them to separate the two. They try again with another beast reader has care for and the same thing happens. Watching the live footage closely it's clear to experts the skilled fighters allow themselves to get injured to be coddled and tended to by reader. When rations are given they try to feed reader a share of their meals. The number of casualties skyrocket when reader's taken away or new caretakers are introduced. The beasts demand their head pats and ear scratches for their winnings and they want it from one source alone.

-

The emperor is quite amused by this revelation. It perfectly masks his paranoia in the case of his pets rising against him for whatever reason and choosing the earthling as their new overlord which few have spoken of in whispers. He's torn between killing them to null his fears and befriending them to puppeteer his pets craftfully from the shadows. He decides on the latter since getting rid of them would only anger his pets. That and it would be so easy to trick the human with his charms. Few can resist the words and body of a king, after all.

"Y/n, darling, it's so good to see you! So glad you could make it. How have things been, hm?"

"I'd like to go home, please."

"Hahaha! Oh, you're so cute with your little jokes! You may enjoy your meal in due time, but I have a favor to ask of you from a friend to a king. In the case of I don't know - my pets slaughtering my entire legion and storming my castle walls to behead me and crown you ruler - would you pretty please ask them to - not do that?"

"That....sounds like it would be out of my hands."

"Right. Changing subject, you are aware I have been topless this whole conversation and my bed is right behind me. Why haven't you attempted to have your way with me by now? Not saying you could - but you can always try."

The emperor upgrades their room to one right next to his, but they hardly sleep there favoring their time caring for the others and because they'd rather stay there than see him in a state of undress on their mattress. The emperor mimics the cooing that gets wounded beasts extra smothering from their handler, but reader mostly ignores him. He grows jealous seeing them fast asleep in a cell kept warm by the body heat of the battle scarred creatures around them. He's been scarred by attempted assassinations in the past - why doesn't he get cuddles too? Combats this jealously by making a royal decree that reader has to sit with him during every battle and on his lap if they wish to stay out of his sight afterwards. Requests for reader's fredom and hand in marriage and when a champion is chosen are banned almost immediately.

[darcydarlingdabbles]

Helpless in Her Hold

//The Drow twins' proposition of Tav surfaces some insecurities for Astaron. Hurt/Comfort, angst but happy ending. CW: Unhealthy relationship to sex/sexuality, identity issues. Not edited... Song Rec: Supposed to Be (Acoustic) By Icon for Hire//

Astarion x f!Tav, Canonish, Act 3

2.1k

Astarion watched, helpless, with his dead heart in his throat as the drow twins propositioned Tav. His Tav. He want to growl it and glower until no one else in this pleasure den deigned to offer their services.

Why did she have to be such a lure for elven whores?

Astarion leaned back against the wall, hardly resisting the urge to fold his arms and sulk in plain view of the whole party. He wasn’t a child whose toy was being played with—and yet, the brightness of her eyes and the laugh on her lips had him wanting to pout and whinge like a toddler.

“I appreciate the offer, I do, but I must decline.” Tav shook her head. Though personally the vampire thought she could be a little more rude in her rejection.

Because the damn twins were were still giving her looks that were far too inviting. Not that Tav saw, because her eyes had landed back on him, and Astarion was just thanking his lucky stars he’d perfected the mask he wore.

“Is that your partner?” The female drow asked, her smile making disgust creep up his spine—it was easy to see where this was going. “We’d be happy to have you both.”

“My dear, I’m afraid you’d be the one parting with your gold.” A high laugh slipped from Astarion’s lips. “And, I do doubt you could afford me.”

He saw the twins’ mirrored expressions of bewilderment turn to glee for only a flash before Tav was excusing herself from them. Swiftly stepping over to him with—that damnable look on her face.

Oh he knew those eyes, so drawn with her concern and on the verge of pity. Tav looked like that when she was about to do something so dreadfully kind it might make him wretch.

And he could not be the broken toy when she was being offered two shiny new ones.

“Astarion—” Tav began in that tone, and he had to preempt her.

“I know pet, tempting as it is, I simply must decline.”

“Yeah?” Tav utterly confounded him with that lifted smile. “That’s good.”

“Good..?” Astarion asked, his mind trying to race ahead. Find the traps and disarm them before they sprung.

She’d preached to him over and over again about his choice, and what he wanted and how that mattered to her for some reason.

Only for him to make a decision about the drow for her.

Shit.

It was a test. It had to be. She respected his choices, now he was expected to reciprocate.

“Ah I see.” Astarion inclined his head to her, a salacious smile on his lips. “You haven’t had much attention lately…it has been a while for us.”

Tav blinked, and then those bright eyes were on his, searching him out. The pale elf would cling to the façade by the skin of his fangs, if it meant he could keep her.

She turned, and Astarion prepared for the feeling of a stake through his heart.

“Well, if my partner isn’t interested, neither am I.” Tav brushed off the twins’ advances with as much grace as one could muster. Until they finally had the tact to move to other potential patrons.

She was already leading the way out of Sharess’ Caress before Astarion had recovered from his shock.

The cold night air near Baulder’s Gate finally woke him.

“You could have gone with them, you know.” He blurted, wondering why in the Hells she hadn’t. It wasn’t like he was satiating her hungers.

Astarion felt Tav shrug her shoulder through their linked hands. “I’m not interested in any little tryst if it’s at your expense.”

She said it so simple, so easy, as if it were hardly worth a second thought.

Astarion’s mind was still reeling, but he put on a smirk. “Stop being so kind to me; it almost makes me want to return the favor.” 

As if it were a debt he could ever repay her.

…

Hours later, Tav lay in her darkened room, sleep evading her. The soft click of a lock being picked made her tense, hand instinctively grasping the dagger beneath her pillow. But the familiar silhouette slipping through the door made her relax.

"Hello, my darling," Astarion purred as he approached, her darkvision letting her see how his ruby eyes glinted. “Haven’t you gotten accustom to me creeping into your bed?”

"It has been a moment since you came looking for a cuddle?" Tav teased softly, tilting her head. His appearance at this hour had her wondering. The dark of night and hushed voices already strummed tension in the air between them.

“I do seek…something akin to that.”

Astarion perched on the edge of the bed, long fingers skimming up her bare arm and leaving goosebumps in their wake. Despite all her thoughts trying to tame her reaction, for now.

"I merely wished to express my gratitude, my sweet. For standing by me, even knowing what I am. What I've done. And what I haven’t."

“What you…haven’t?” Her half-awake mind might be jumping to conclusions, surely. Twining their fingers together, Tav brought his hand to her lips, pressing a soft kiss to his knuckles. "You never have to thank me for that."

Astarion's eyes shimmered suspiciously in the darkness before he blinked it away, his trademark smirk back in place. "I want to thank you," he purred, “Won’t you, let me?”

He moved then, pressing her back into the soft pillow she’d been having trouble sleeping on after so many nights spent in the dirt.

Though the familiar weight of him was already making the bed more appealing. Now, just like every time he fed from her, he cradled her skull and tilted her head back so tenderly. It was comforting, it was an intimate moment she was happy to share with him.

His eyes didn’t meet hers as he ducked his head. Usually he lingered, to make sure Tav was alright before his fangs pierced her flesh. So why did she feel lips caressing her neck?

Her fingers slid into his hair, trying to get a grip on herself as much as she was on his curls.

“Star, what’s going on?”

The chuckle he gave was at the base of her neck, lips and tongue teasing at her collarbones in a way that made her skin tingle.

“Returning the favor.” He purred. “You deserve it.”

Tav swallowed under his clever mouth, trying to hear what her mind was screaming at her before it could be drowned out by the sweet words and sweeter lips.

Suddenly his face was swimming before hers, still not letting her catch his eye as he cupped her cheek. “So very few people get what they deserve—you, as always, should be the exception.”

Astation, with his ethereal beauty and perfect words, had her stunned. It wasn’t until he lowered his mouth to hers that her mind caught up.

“I don’t deserve anything you don’t wish to give.” Tav managed against his mouth, giving a gentle tug to his hair to get him to pull back.

“My sweet…I very much wish to give.”

That silver tongue slipped right past her protesting lips.

…

The elf was certain he had her when those hands slipped from his hair to cup his face in her palms. Her thumbs stroked over his high cheekbones.

“Astarion, wait.” Tav breathed.

He stilled, pulling back, fear flickering over his features as he was sure he’d somehow hurt her—when he saw it.

That damnable look in her eyes.

“Wait—we’ve done nothing but the waiting.” He snapped.

And Tav, damn her, gave a softer look still. “I’m willing to wait longer, as long as it takes.”

Astarion's posture stiffened, his back becoming an iron rod as he sat upright. "Is that how you see me then?" He couldn't keep the defensive edge from seeping into his voice. Drawing it like a blade when he felt his throat was bared.

"All shattered on the inside? Some broken doll you no longer play with? Am I to be put on a shelf and never touched again?"

“Astarion, you aren’t—” She moved to touch him, but he rose abruptly, evading her reach.

He didn’t even know why he did it. But the way her hand fell back to the bed, dejected, hurt him just as the pain he saw on her face.

"I know you aren’t fragile," Tav said with conviction, eyes pleading for him to understand.

“Then what? Am I some charity case to you? Is that what you get off on?”

Astarion hated it the moment he said it. But, the fangs showed whenever vulnerability crept up on him.

She stayed silent, and he had to fill that void before it consumed him.

“I’m not some delicate boy with a broken heart. I have wants. And I can see that you have them too. So, why not?”

“Is that what you want?” Tav smothered his outrage like a blanket over a campfire.

His shoulders sagged under the weight of his uncertainty.

“I don’t know.” The words barely escaped his lips before they broke apart into whispers of self-doubt. “Gods, I don’t know how to do any of this.” A frustrated hand raked through his white curls.

He wanted her. He wanted to see her looks of want and he wanted to be the one to fulfill her desires.

He wanted to keep her.

She sat up, legs hanging off the bed. And his eyes were drawn to the bare skin of her thighs exposed by her loose sleep clothes.

“Astarion, what do you want?”

He stared down at her, red eyes probing for a hint of the right answer. What did she want him to say? He would say it.

But Tav held without giving an inch.

“Why do you always ask the most difficult things?”

"I’m sorry." she whispered back.

"Don’t. I want—no, I need to know that I am still wanted by you." The confession fell from his lips like a plea. "You who’ve given me so much and seen broken I am. You who’ve made me wonder if I do indeed have any pieces left of my own soul…” The words were on his tongue, but his throat constricted around baring his neck one last time. “Do you still want me?”

“I will always want you.” Tav’s reply came without hesitation or doubt.

Either he had gotten to sloppy to see it—or there was simply no guile in her.

Tav reached out, her hand finding his where he stood frozen. He could feel the tension coursing through him—an all too familiar vulnerability that he constantly tried to suppress.

“Then let me give you something in return.” He dropped to his knees before her, desperation etched into every feature. .“Please, Tav.”

She lifted the hand she held, cupping it in both of hers, before she pressed his touch against her chest. And he had a moment to hope, that maybe, she would just let him give a fraction of what she’d given him.

“You’ve given me everything already, my heart.”

A scornful snort burst from him, everything in him prepared to banish her romanticized drivel with a dose of reality.

“This,” Her fingers tightened around the fabric of his shirt over his chest. “Past the petty armor you wear. Beneath the pretty face and clever tongue,” She yanked him close before he could quip back.“That is what you give me; parts of you that you’ve given to no one else.”

When he looked at her then, he had no idea what she might see, even if he could use a mirror.

“Your kindness, your hurt, your wants. The truth of you. That’s what I want.”

“I can’t give—“ Astarion couldn’t get this damn silver tongue of his around a his words. “I don’t know what that is…who I am.”

“Then we can both find out. That’s all I ask of you.”

He swallowed hard as her words left him parched and speechless. The notion that he might still have something to offer, a piece of himself that was untouched.

Astarion found himself staring at her, wonder and disbelief battling for dominance in his gaze.

A gentleness tugged at Tav's lips. And for a fleeting moment, Astarion dared to believe that perhaps he could have this.

He moved up, but only to wrap his arms around her. To engulf her in his embrace. Just as that night when she wrapped her arms around him, and first showed him that there was affection, there was closeness, without the expectation of more.

Astarion would be just fine if he was helpless in her arms.

[gojonanami]

BLOODSUCKER - SATORU GOJO

✴︎ summary: you had avoided your ex for so long, only to run into him at a halloween party, and he's the same as ever but has his teeth always been that sharp? ✴︎ contents: 18+ only, nsfw, dub/con, blood kink, gojo has fangs, biting, marking, bloodsucking, fingering (f!receiving), swearing, semi-public sex, sex against a car, unprotected sex, creampie, pet names (sweetheart, pretty, baby), ✴︎ wc: 2,704

“Can I have a bite?” He whispers, lips against your ear, his breath hot against your skin, sending a warm flush down your body — and why did he smell so intoxicating? 

The night had gone on normally enough — yet another Halloween party you had been dragged to (after you had lost a bet and ended up being the designated driver for the evening) in another coordinated themed costume — this time for the Barbie movie. Yet another throng of costumed drunks and weirdos you had to wade through while your friends had their fun. And you thought the night would be boring. 

Oh, you were so wrong. 

He saw you first. You were only sure of that, after, because you remembered the prickling of your skin when his ice blue irises had found you lounging in the loft area upstairs — where most people had begun to clear out of after the keg had arrived downstairs. You had let your hair out of your wig, your head aching from the weight of the hair on your head and the cheap elastic band trying to work its way into your forehead. 

You unlocked your phone, looking at yourself in your camera, pouting at the state of your hair — unkempt and unruly from the wig, but you only could do what you could. 

“Great, now I can be a scary Barbie,” you murmur, locking your phone, as you pocket it. 

“Oh, you’re not scary,” and your head snaps up, eyes finding those pools of still blue that looked like you could drown in them — and you very well would. His lips were curled in a small smile, his skin looked pale in the harsh fluorescent lights of the kitchen, “but I wouldn’t mind seeing you be a little scary,” 

“Satoru,” your lips twist, fuck, you thought he’d never show up to this party — you had avoided him flawlessly since your breakup — if you could even call it that. You never official — you were never anything, just a situation that was more than a booty call, but less than a relationship. Every invitation was only accepted with assurance and recon that Satoru would not attend, every exit strategy was planned, and every move was carefully made. 

Except this one. 

“Oh, you recognize me?” he gasps in mock surprise, lips in that shit eating grin you had loved to kiss off of him, but now, all it did was make you want to slap him, “surprised you did after you’ve avoided me for so long, sweetheart,” 

“And apparently you’re the one with brain damage because we broke up — don’t call me that,” you sigh, eyes glancing down at his outfit — a black and white suit with a high collar, as his mouth moved as he spoke, you caught sight of fangs on his teeth, and his eyes glinted with a crimson tint dipped in an ocean of blue, “your costume is fitting — you definitely did suck the life out of our relationship,” 

“Bitter doesn’t suit you, baby,” your eye twitches, as he dares closer, eyes glinting in the low light of the kitchen, “plus y’know, you always did the best sucking,” 

Your traitorous cheeks flush, and he doesn’t miss the way your eyes betray you by flickering downwards, “fuck off—“ 

“Oh, I know you want me to fuck something — don’t think it’s off though,” he looms closer, licking his lips, as he smiles — and your heart forgets to beat — did he always smell this good? He smelt of musk, wood, and everything warm and honeyed — the scent melted over you, plying your resistance with sweetness in contrast to his vulgarity, “look at you, haven’t even touched you and you’re so pliant, where’s that mouth now?” And his thumbs drag down your lips, pulling at the bottom one — “looks better wrapped around my cock, doesn’t it?” 

And his words snap you from your trance, slapping his hand away, “didn’t expect an apology from you, but I thought you’d do better than this shit,” 

“Can you blame me for missing you, pretty?” He pouts, “thought you loved me more than that,” 

“And I thought you loved me enough to commit but looks like we both are wrong,” you roll your eyes, “go find someone else to fuck with, Gojo,” 

He raises an eyebrow, “Aw, baby, don’t act so unfamiliar, you had my dick in you after all, you can still call me Satoru,” and then there’s a cheer in the living room that cuts off your retort, as he turns to look. 

And that’s your cue to leave, you slip away from him, grabbing your jacket, making an Irish exit, slipping through the throng of people partying. You manage to get down the street, the streets quiet now, the sounds of the party growing more distant by the second. A sense of dread settled over you the more you walked, forming a lump in your throat and a pit in your stomach. The streetlights flickered above you, the wind cutting through your jacket as you pulled it closer around you. Your car was close, right past this wooded backyard, trees lining what seemed to be an abandoned home. There was only a few more yards — and then you heard a twig snap — your head snapped around to look behind you. 

And that was your mistake. 

A hand clamped over your mouth, as you gasped against it, another tight around your middle, your scream was muffled against the palm. And then a familiar voice whispered in your ear, “Boo,” before he lets you go, and you whirl around, smacking Satoru against his chest, hard. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Your heart was pumping, hard, nearly banging against your ribs, body still shaking with adrenaline, “what the fuck - that’s not fucking funny,” 

“It wasn’t supposed to be funny — it was supposed to be spooky,” he grins, unaffected by your anger, as your fingers clench into fists, “you didn’t give me a treat so I had to play a trick. It’s the rules of Halloween, pretty,” 

“It wasn’t spooky, it was fucking scary—“ you move to hit him again, and he catches your hand by the wrist, and he’s pulling you close, “let me go, Gojo—“ 

“Satoru,” he corrects, his fingers caressing your cheek, and you feel your knees knocking together, the world shifting beneath your feet, “I’m sorry for frightening you, sweetheart,” and he’s helping you walk over to your car, “just wanted to make sure you get to your car safely,” 

Why were you letting him help you? Why was your body leaning against his? Why were you letting his arm slink around your waist, fingers squeezing your hip? But those same questions sunk away into the inky abyss of your mind, as thoughts blurred over each other, and all you can think about was him.  

“Satoru,” you murmur, as you stumble against him, and he catches you by your waist, steadying you, “I don’t know what’s wrong,” your head rests against his chest, but you felt so comfortable, so…content. 

“It’s okay, baby, I got you,” he purred, his words only intoxicated you further, drizzled like melted molasses down your throat, “that spook I gave you earlier really took it out of you, but,” his fingers tilt your chin up, his eyes finding yours — and they glowed, a shiny blue that unnerved you, “should I show you something really scary?” 

“Satoru, what—“ and he’s kissing you, lips sliding against yours — he tastes familiar, hint of candy corn that he was always a fiend for, but he tastes even sweeter than that, headier too — before he parts, “what are you doing?” 

“Showing you just how much I missed you,” he hums, thumb gliding over the length of your cheek, “y’know how hard it was for me without you? Wouldn’t be able to sleep. I could only think about how I had screwed thing up. Would take these long walks at night when I couldn’t sleep,” and his fingers trace down your jawline, before reaching your neck, his thumb resting against your pulse, “turns out those walks were good for one thing,” 

“And what’s that?” You murmur, still utterly distracted by his touch. 

And he brushes his lips against your neck, teeth grazing against your pulse, “Finding a way to keep you — forever,” and his lips find yours again, more insistent this time, as his arms press your body to his, your hands sliding up his chest, caged in by his form, “can I have a bite?” he whispers, lips against your ear now, sending a flush across your cheeks, “just wanna mark you again, like i used to, make you mine,” 

For a moment, the curtain snaps back, mask slipping, as your eyes flutter open without the rosy glasses he had slipped over your eyes, “I’m not yours,” and you only see him — the true him — for a moment. 

His muscles tighten, fingers digging into your sides harshly, gripping your flesh hard enough to bruise, his gaze is dark, navy instead of the usual cerulean with a ring of red that pierces through your skin, but his teeth — his teeth scare you the most — his fangs aren’t fake, his tongue sliding against them both, as he flashed an unnerving smile at you that sends your blood running cold.  

But not colder than his. 

“Satoru — what—“ and his lips find yours again, sending a headiness throughout your body, from your head to the tips of your toes, “I-“ 

“Just let me have this, just this one night,” he murmurs, words as smooth as glass and as needy as need itself, “please,” 

And you’re the one pulling him to you, back against the cool metal of your car, and your fingers cup his face, pulling him against your lips. He tastes like want, his tongue parts your lips, as his fingers slide up your dress, sending goosebumps up your thighs, “Fuck, all it takes for you, huh?” He murmurs, and his fangs nibble at your bottom lip making you gasp, pressing wet kisses down your jaw, until he reaches your neck. 

“Been thinking about this for far too long, sweetheart,” 

two fingers drag down your neck first, as he tilts your head for easy access, and you shiver at his touch — was he colder than before? “I’m going to be doing a lot more than marking you like I did before,” his lips press a delicate kiss to your neck, “need to taste it,” 

And his fangs drag over your soft flesh, before he finally bites you. Your mouth hangs open in a sharp gasp as his fangs pierce your skin, and your head lolls back, as pleasure floods your body. You feel your warm blood dripping from your neck, slipping down your skin, as he sucks from you. 

He pulls away for a moment to look at you, your scarlet blood dripping from his mouth, painting his pale pink lips burgundy, as his tongue darts out to catch the blood slipping down your chin. 

“You taste like everything to me,” he murmurs, pressing his nose against the nape of your neck, “sweetest thing I’ve ever tasted, aren’t you?” 

You whimper, “Satoru, feels so good,” and he’s kissing you again, letting you taste your own blood on his lips, it only makes you want him even more. But this isn’t right, something wasn’t right—

“Just give in, sweetheart,” he’s dragging your hands down your sides, squeezing your hips, as his palms rest under your thighs, “let me make you feel good,” 

And he lifts you, guiding your legs to wrap around your waist, as his large palm slides up your thigh, hiking your dress up. He grins, looking at your soaked panties, thumb pressing against your puffy clit, making you gasp and squirm, “wonder if you taste even sweeter down here, baby?” 

You whine louder, as his fingers slide into the waistband of your underwear and snaps it against your skin, “Your blood is pumping harder than ever, bet it tastes even better like that — full of your fear, full of your pleasure,” his fingers are sliding your drenched panties down, “fuck, you’re a little freak, bet you got wet when I grabbed you, can’t all be from the last few minutes,” 

And his lithe finger sinking into you, as your lips part in a gasp as he bullies your walls, “So tight for me,” he groans, as his finger curls against you, making you moan, and his teeth graze against your neck, before sinking in. You both moan in tandem, as he drinks more of your blood, as a second finger parts into your folds, your release dripping down his palm. He’s stretching you out — fingers pistoning in and out, Pleasure courses up and down your body, toes curling, as all you can hear is the sucking of his fangs and the squelch of his fingers in your cunt. 

And then he hits that spot, and you’re cumming, slick dripping down your thighs as you moan, as your hips move against his fingers, riding out your orgasm. He pulls your fangs from your neck, letting your blood drip down your neck. 

He tilts your head back, letting him look at your fluttering eyelashes and fucked out expression, lips parted, as your blood paints your skin a beautiful maroon. 

“So fuckin’ pretty, sweetheart,” he’s pulling his fingers from you, as you gasp from the emptiness. He places them in his mouth, cleaning them of your release, “think I may get addicted baby, gotta have more of you — doesn’t matter if it’s your blood or your cum,” 

And you hear the clink of your belt buckle and sound of his zipper, as he frees his cock, rubbing against your dripping pussy, “Gonna let your ex fuck you against your car? Gotta have you baby, but if I take you now, I don’t know if I’ll ever let you go,” he’s teasing the head of his cock against your pussy lips, “do you still want me to do it?”

You whine, back arching against the hard surface of the car, “please, I need you,” your fingers wrap around his neck, his lips against yours, “Satoru—“ 

And he’s sinking his cock into you, as he’s lifting your legs to your ears, ankles by his ears as his hips flush against your ass, “Fuck, can you feel me kissing the deepest part of you?” His hips roll into you now, slowly at first, again and again, as your walls throb around him, the car groans and your ankles ache against his slow thrusts, “best cunt I’ve ever had, and all fucking mine now,” 

“Toru, please, more—“ 

And he barks a laugh, sweat slipping down your forehead, his balls slapping against your ass, “so needy f’me, you’re mine aren’t you? Say you’re mine,” he’s grunting as your walls flutter around him, and he knows you’re close—

Your orgasm washes over you, toes curling, and he leans forward, fangs sinking into you, as he fucks you through it. The blood he drinks makes your head dizzy with pleasure, until he pulls away, letting your blood drip from his lips. And he’s grunting, hips stuttering as he bottoms out — making you gasp and whine again. Until he’s cumming inside you, painting your walls white, emptying his load into you. He’s fucking his cum inside your cunt.

And he’s easing your legs down as the two of you come down, his face buried in the nape of your neck, licking at the blood dripping from his bites — your neck beginning to ache and sting now. 

“So pretty, so perfect,” he coos, his lips curling still red from your blood, as he’s curling his arms around your waist, “gotta take you home so I can taste you all over again.” 

“No, I can’t. This was a one time thing—“ 

And he’s tilting your chin up, eyes flashing dangerously, as his lips curl, “I told you, I’m not going to let you go, besides,” he turns your head towards your rear view mirror, your eyes beginning to glint red, “I have to let you have a bite of me later,” and you can feel your blood run cold, “it’s only fair, isn’t it, sweetheart?” 

✴︎ a/n: was possessed to write this by the halloween spirits -- also i have a thing for bloodsucking now unfortunately. have a spooky season :)

✴︎ tag list: @d1rtv, @crazynocturnalkiki, @ichikanu, @dazailover1900, @sinnerstardoll, @bisexualpanicwentoutforasmoke, @dumbabie, @aureatekintsugi, @mooly-artistic, @happymangospot, @hiimarandin, @bunsunee, @5-xiaoo,

[astroboots]

omg tbh grumpy bored Miguel just having to sit, wait, hand over his credit card and then carry bags from lingerie store to lingerie store is so important to me and my daydreaming lmaoo. Punishment fits the crime imo!!

I also love the idea of him going solo and buying lingerie he likes and leaving her little presents because A) if she likes the pieces then perfect!! or B) if it’s not her taste then it’s perfectly okay for him to rip them of her and she doesn’t even get mad 😏😏

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x reader

Astroboot’s Masterlist | Spiderverse Masterlist

When you had asked him to come with you to go shopping for lingerie, he had been thrilled.

Why wouldn't he be.

It had sounded like a great way to spend a few hours of on a lazy weekend together.

In his mind, it'd be you half naked, parading in scanty underwear for his eyes only.

A private fashion show, except sexy, instead of boring, where you'd be wearing a lacy piece that would barely cover your ass cheeks for him. A sheer peer of white panties that would leave nothing to the imagination. A frilly pair that was begging for him to rip them off right then and there, in the changing room.

He hadn't know then that it would be like this.

That apparently, in lingerie stores, men aren't allowed in the changing rooms. That he'd be banished in the lounging area, sat in a pink velvet armchair so tiny, it must be made for dolls that he can barely squeeze his ass into.

He's sitting here, exiled to this depressingly sad space of other bored husbands and boyfriends, who are half dozing off or staring at their phones like dreary zombies. Meanwhile he's hunched in on himself like a shocking elephant trying to fit in a goddamned teacup.

Not for the first time since he arrived in this world, the thought strikes Miguel that your world is a dystopia.

Because what other way is there to describe a world where one is supposed to sit sit mere feet away from their partner, while they get undressed and he's not allowed to look. Not allowed to touch. Not allowed to...

Shock.

This is torture. Why is he left out here like some abandoned dog out in the streets, forced to imagine what you look like in that tiny dressing room.

Forced to imagine you naked, with nothing on but a bra as you look at yourself in the mirror, and nothing he can do about it. Except sit here, as his dick stirs between his legs at the thought of it. Nothing to do but be tortured at the thought of you and your hands cupping your breasts as you try to decide if it's a good fit.

At the way you'd spin in front of your own reflection, and the way those sheer lacy panties he picked for you to try, that splits in the middle, would part as you move.

His fangs itch in his mouth at the thought of it. Fingers gripping into the arms of the armchair, as he resists every instinct to rush to his feet and break into your dressing room. Press you up against the wall until you're flat against it. Every inch of him pressed along yours, your legs wrapped around his waist, spreading you wide open as he --

"Miggy."

He breaks out of his reverie. Blinking up to see your face gaze down at him.

"I'm done," you tell him, showcasing the big shopping bag like a treasure.

Reaching over, he takes it from you. "What did you get in the end?"

"All of them. You've ripped so many I don't have anything nice to wear anymore except my old granny panties, so I figured I needed a whole new collection," you say a little pointedly as you serve him a side eye and steer him out of the shop.

He shakes the bag to peer inside, and the familiar white cotton and cherry patterns of the panties you wore this morning peeks out from the other wrapped items.

"Are those the panties you wore here?"

"Mhmm," you hum absentmindedly as you continue to steer the two of you towards the exit of the mall.

It's probably not easy for you to do, cause Miguel is larger than you, and the place is crowded, but he's too distracted to be more helpful to you in this moment.

Images of you flit through his mind. Of the cute sheer panties you'd picked up earlier hugging your hips even as you're walking next to him in this moment.

"Which one are you wearing now?" He has to swallow down the saliva flooding his tongue so he can ask the question.

Training his eyes on the bag, he tries to sneak another peek, even though every other piece has been carefully wrapped in pink tissue paper. "Is it the pink one? or the red ones?"

You cock your head slightly to the side and observe him with an amused smile lingering on your lips.

"Nope," you tell him, still with that casual smile.

"The sheer lacy one then?"

"No, not that one either."

"The baby blue?"

You shake your head and he frowns. This game of 20 questions is getting a bit too drawn out for his liking. And he doesn't quite get why you won't just give him the answer. Still there's only two more guesses left.

"The black satin?"

"No."

"So the--"

"I'm not wearing that one either," you finish before he even can point out the final option.

His eyebrow quirks in question. "What do you mean?

The gears in his heads are turning but not fully comprehending what you mean by that. He saw the ones you wore this morning in the shopping bag, and if you didn't wear any of the ones you bought then--

"I'm not wearing anything."

... Shock.

Dedication & Credits: To my most beloved @thirstworldproblemss for always having the patience to listen to my unhinged thoughts. She had the most delicious thots about what happens minutes after this.

How Miguel would be too impatient to wait until you made it back home. How Miguel would have you pinned against the wall in a semi-secluded area, all: “don’t worry about it, nena. I’ll know if anyone’s coming, and we’ll be long gone before they get here.” But then being so distracted by you and the feeling of you wrapped around his cock that you nearly get caught anyway, and it’s only because you notice in the last second before discovery and tap him in alarm that makes him manage to haul you out of sight before you got caught.

Follow me on astroboots-writes and turn on notifications to be notified when I post something new!

[kiatheinsomniac]

──── 𝐈 𝐋𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐈𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐌 𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐄 ˊˎ -

☾ ⋆ ﾟ𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 / 𝐑𝐔𝐋𝐄𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒: i'll love you forever if anyone knows what the title is a quote from. anyway, i was craving primal, desperate, bloody sex with alucard so here it is 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: Adrian 'Alucard' Tepes x Reader 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 1.2k 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: MDNI, NSFW content, smut, biting, marking, blood drinking, oral (fem. receiving), overstimulation (male and fem.), men whimpering and moaning

A desperate noise leaves your lips as his fangs sink into your neck. There’s pain but a rush of pleasure too as his canines withdraw and his lips wrap gently yet eagerly around the wound, your blood pooling on his tongue, sluicing down his throat, staining his teeth red and pink. And when he kisses you, it’s with a mouth of heat and copper and yet it’s not off-putting in the slightest as his tongue slides against yours and he then buries his face in your neck again, lapping at the punctures over your throat, warm breath panting against your bloody skin. 

A moan leaves his lips and your hand tangles in his gossamer hair, the ends darkened and stuck together where they’ve swiped through the blood on your bodies. He’s not the only one leaving marks through as your other hand is scratching angry, vengeful lines down his back. He’s on top of you, nestled between your soft thighs, the insides which are already painted with fang punctures and love bites, having been thoroughly pampered and prepared with his skillful tongue before he even considered taking his own pleasure for you. 

His heart might be slower than yours but every beat of it belongs to you so as your pulse thrums through your veins like a storm, he listens to its flutters and feels the warmth of its work on his tongue. His alabaster skin is also smeared with the red liquid. Your life isn’t like his: it’s warm, red, brief and he wants to worship it. Your life flowing from your broken skin isn’t unappreciated at all and you’ll be treated like a queen of queens after this but for now he wants to love every part of you, of your nature, to feed from you if only to prove how his immortal life rests in your living hands. 

Your thighs squeeze his narrow waist, heels digging into his back to push him deeper into where he’s pumping in and out of your welcoming, wet walls. Between your flowing blood and arousal, your bodies meet with repeated wet smacks and he looks at you with lidded eyes the colour of winter sun. He’s beautiful – unspeakably so – and it only makes you pull him into another kiss, your tongue sliding past his fangs and tasting the bitterness of your blood and arousal that’s filled his mouth. 

The kiss breaks and he rests his forehead against yours, brow pinched in pleasure as he thrusts into you, stretching you sweetly as his tip kisses your cervix each time, hips angled to reach each sweet spot of yours along the way to keep those sweet moans and whines pouring past your bloodied lips. His breath mingles with yours and a whimper squeezes out of his pale throat. 

“You’re so warm… so, so warm.” He props himself up with a hand on the headboard and looks down at your writhing figure beneath him, breasts bouncing enticingly with each firm smack of his hips against yours. “I want to see you come again, I want to feel it.” His eyes are watery with how overwhelmingly good he feels, crystalline drops clinging to his long lashes. His other hand ventures down to your clit where he begins to rub sticky hearts, pressing down on the sensitive button to feel your walls clench around him. “So pretty… you’re so pretty, my love.” He sighs out when you throw your head back and he feels the way you tighten on his cock. 

He wants to keep on looking over you like this but he can’t resist the crimson splashed over your throat like sweet syrup and his tongue is lapping at the punctures he’s left in your flesh again. 

“Come for me, darling.” He coaxes, voice slightly muffled with the tip of his tongue still on your warm skin, “Come on my cock and show me your prettiest self.” He smiles when your moans go up in pitch and he can feel your thighs squirm and tense. With his one hand, he keeps on pressing and rubbing your clit, rapidly flicking the pads of his fingers over it, but the other goes to the back of your knee, pressing on it to hold you open so that you cannot close your legs when the pleasure washes over you. You wouldn’t be able to close your legs with him between them anyway but he wants an unobstructed view of your pussy swallowing his cock over and over so that he can see how you’ve made a halo of cream at his base, length shining with how much he can turn you on, the insides of your thighs smudged with blood and darkened with love bites. 

“A-Adrian, please.” You cry out as you begin to tremble and all that pressure building up in your belly finally collapses in on itself, sending utter bliss washing through your body. He bites you again, over your breast this time, and lets out a muffled moan of his own. You’re contracting so tightly around him that it’s got his hips stuttering and everything about you from your feel to your looks, your sounds, your scent, your taste has him going right over the edge with you. A whimper escapes him as he slows down his steady but firm pace, now just grinding into you as he pumps you full of warm cum. He leans down over you more and shifts your hips so that it’s less likely for it to spill out of you. 

You’re both pushed to your most sensitive states but he doesn’t care and continues to grind into that soft spot of yours with his tip over and over and over, pulling soft, wet noises from your fluttering walls. He fucks his cum deeper into you, not wanting a drop to spill from your body for now and yet he’s already anticipating the sight of seeing it leak from you when he pulls out. Alucard’s body feels as though it’s on fire with the overstimulation settling into his being and yet he’s enjoying you far too much to care and with those beautiful tears prickling the corners of your glittery eyes, he can’t find it in himself to stop. 

He nuzzles into your bloodied neck as his arms wrap around your back, pulling you close to him and encouraging your spine into an arch. You’re trembling like a leaf in the wind but he’s right there with you, desperate sounds slipping past bloodied lips for the both of you. Eventually, he reaches the pinnacle of that sweet fire in his veins and he finally goes still. He presses a kiss to your collarbone reverently and then slowly pulls out, mindful of how sensitive the both of you are. Just as anticipated, he’s blessed with the sight of your puffy pussy that glistens with your juices and leaks his thick ropes of cum, framed by your pretty thighs that he’s bruised with his mouth and punctures with his teeth, smudged with blood. 

He lays down beside you and pulls you into his arms, bodies damp with sweat and blood. You curl up against his toned, scarred chest and he’s holding the most precious thing in the world. He smooths your hair back and away from your face, lips pressing to your forehead as he closes his eyes, coming down from his high. He cups your cheek and then kisses that next.

After around ten minutes, he gets up to begin doting on you like royalty. You deserved every bit of pleasure he was capable of giving and now you deserve every ounce of care. 

☾ ⋆ ﾟlike my work? why not: ∘ buy me a coffee? ∘ commission me? ∘ join my taglist ∘ consider following/reblogging

🏷️@involuntaryspasms @writing-noah @signyvenetia @brideofalucard @koyunsoncizeri @asianbutnotjapanese @danielle-marie @yourfamilyfriendsatan @welcome2thesaltyspitoon @firagirl @darlingdoctor @lyn07 @tired-lime @ghostofpolaris @aconstructofamind @batsyforyou @jofie-does-things @weasleytwins-41

[flametrashiraarchive]

The people have spoken!

Douma x BIG Boobs

NSFW beneath the cut. F!reader.

It was winter, the temple was cold, and your nipples were pretty hard (lol) to miss.

Your yukata was thin and you weren't wearing anything beneath it to support your soft, heavy breasts as you lined up to get your breakfast.

You looked like a fertility goddess, and that got his devious little brain whirring.

Muzan wouldn't allow the Eternal Paradise cult to have more than 200 followers at any one time, so Douma couldn't draw too much attention to himself (*pout pout*)

BUT you, on the other hand... you could have as many as you could attract

And with assets like those... well...

Douma just STARED, his eyes all wide and his lips curved into a devilish smile. (You know that one bit in the upper moon meeting when he whips his head round to stare at Akaza? That's how he was with your tits.)

"Dear, come here," he beckoned you over to him as he sat cross-legged on his cushion.

The moment you drew close he pulled the chord holding up the curtains and closed you off from the rest of his disciples.

He stood, towering over you, crooking a finger beneath your chin and tilting your face toward him.

"Hm... pretty..." he murmured to himself. Yes you could definitely attract a following. You wouldn't even need to speak. You could just sit on a dais and women would flock to you hoping for your blessing.

It didn't matter whether it worked or not. He was going to eat them all anyway.

Perhaps he'd start a rumor that they'd have to line up and rub your breasts for good luck and fertility? Or suckle upon them? Oh the thought of that made his dick twitch.

"Are you cold?" he said softly, brushing his knuckle over your stiffened nipple.

Your gasp made him chuckle. Of course you adored him, you were his disciple after all. You would let him do whatever he wanted.

He could feel the pitter patter of your mortal heart, your pupils spreading like ink droplets as you gazed up at him. Oh and that precious little quiver of your bottom lip.

You were scrumptious. Just the sweetest little thing.

He wasn't going to eat you, but he NEEDED something of yours in his mouth.

And if you were going to be a goddess then you needed to start getting used to being treated like one.

He got down on his knees, gazing up at you with those kaleidoscope eyes and smiled. "May I warm you up, most radiant one?"

He asked so nicely he knew you wouldn't refuse. You nodded and gave a breathy "yes."

He opened your yukata, tugging it down to your waist and just

....

Oh...

......

Oh you were a feast (for his eyes)

Never once, across centuries of *ahem* encountering women had he seen breasts quite like yours.

None so exquisitely large and heavy and ohh~ so soft he couldn't help but fill his hands with them and just grin as they spilled over.

And your poor nipples were all hardened from the cold. That wouldn't do at all.

He latched on to one of them, pressing his tongue flat against your aching bud, cock pulsing at the gentle moan which left your lips.

You braced your hands on his broad shoulders as you put your head back and whined.

As a demon, Douma didn't need to breathe, but you were certainly making him pant as he lapped at your nipple.

He couldn't resist pressing the pointed tips of his fangs to your supple flesh; not hard enough to break the skin, but enough that it got his heart pumping.

When you whimpered he was done for.

He picked you up, put you on his cushion and knelt at your feet, taking your hand and putting it around his cock as he continued to suckle from you.

You didn't need to do anything more than form a tunnel with your fist for him to fuck up into.

He switched sides and began to suck the other, bringing his hands to the first to flick your slippery nipple with his thumb.

The way you attempted to stifle your moans against your hand was adorable to him.

And when you squeezed your thighs together to satiate the ache building between them, well... that wouldn't do. His Goddess wasn't about to go unworshipped now.

You were on the same page as he was, practically pulling him by the cock toward your entrance, muffling your wanton cries as the disciples went on with their breakfast on the other side of the curtain.

Oh but you both were feasting in your own way, him on your succulent tits, you stuffed full of his cock.

Your hands caressed his chest as he rutted against you and Douma raised his head to grin.

"Mine aren't quite as fat as yours."

"Not quite," you whispered. "But almost."

Cheeky little thing, he adored you more with every second.

He punished and rewarded you for that comment by thrusting hard against you, biting your nipple before lavishing it with slow, hungry licks.

"I've always promised you paradise, my darling," he said as he set a steady rhythm with his hips. "It's about time I saw that through."

Oh the wet slap of your sopping cunt swallowing his dick was a thing of beauty. Your muffled whimpers, the sluttish blush on your cheeks and staining your chest were art.

Douma was completely lost in you; his face buried between your breasts, biting, licking, sucking, groaning between them as your greedy pussy clenched and fluttered around his dick, dragging him over the edge with you.

You came together; his rainbow eyes rolling back as he pressed firmly into you pumping you full of his cum and claiming you as his own.

His Goddess whom he would not share.

"Now, wasn't that fun?" He cooed, pinching your nipples between his fingers and laughing. "Are you all warmed up?"

You nodded as you fought to catch your breath and Douma smiled.

"Good... because I'm just getting started."

[xueyidweams]

you’re a memokeeper, a pretty strong one at that. you’ve had your eye on this pretty but cunning gambler for a while; fate always seemed to bring you two to the same place. you see him drinking away at a bar one day, you’ve been visiting Penacony for some time and know that the bar plays tango every week on this day so— why not use it as an opportunity to get into that pretty brain of his?

You put on your sultry voice, your body language relaxed and elegant as aventurine eyes you up after your invite for a dance. he accepted, took your hand and let you whisk him away to the dance floor. whether because he thinks of this as networking or simple pleasure of having one’s body close to another is of no matter to you. you give him a small smile as you slide your hands up and down his arms slowly, sensually. there’s no denying that, you aren’t trying to, how can anyone resist those eyes anyways? you make sure that every touch, every brush of your bodies is deliberate and with a purpose. push into his mind, you think as you dip him and he looks into your eyes. tipsy but not drunk and clearly enjoying this if him bouncing back to you every time you twirl him away is any sign.

his eyes are truly beautiful, yet terrifying. just from one look at his eyes there has been a tug at your heart, its painful, its of love and its of struggle and its strong yet oh so weak. You twirl him and dip him, your fingers curling around his waist, faces too close for this to be anything but flirting and chasing.

and you finally do it, you truly look into his eyes as you two are twirling each other in a warm yet unfamiliar way.

at first your heart is warm, your— no his mother’s voice filling your ears. her scent is so comforting, so familiar, so strange and so distant that you don’t even know if you can call her your mother. your heart screams with grief, tears itself apart with guilt and your soul bears its fangs with vengeance as you’re in a deserted place… your sister is crying and you don’t know what’s going on but it hurts so much to see tears on her face..

aventurine has taken the lead by now, your slightly limp movements and glazed eyes telling him all he needs to know and yet, he doesn’t hide his wounds and cuts. he lets you see him bare, he lets you look at his disgusting self— a gambler damned to always win, a kid with no one to embrace in the thick and suffocating darkness. he lets you see it, he lets you look and he doesn’t know why. maybe the alcohol. maybe.

your heart hurts so much, your soul wails and your teeth tear and bite as you kill others just like you… they had dreams they had families and now they had no one— just like you. and yet you had to kill them, if you want to make it out of here alive and burn everyone who has led you to this moment— you had to live and step on people just like you. the emotions are too much to bear, it should be a memokeeper’s dinner but it’s filled with such despair that your brain refuses to take it and you’re breathlessly pushed back to reality, the song on its final note, aventurine’s eyes looking deep into yours. your tears filled with pain that you have not experienced, filled with vengeance and anger that burns and yet it is not yours. and yet it hurts like it is.

he sees your tear stained face, pulls you up from the dip and you feel the brush of his finger and the coolness of his rings on your burning skin, and when he speaks his voice is filled with such mundane sadness that it tears you apart, “so what do you think, memokeeper?”

[futureplayboibunnie]

Aphrodesiacs Pt. 7

Miguel O’Hara x fem! spidey! reader

You and Miguel O’Hara were bitten by the same spider…what could possibly happen?

i bust my ass for this one. nuff said.

NSFW as always 18+

“Ay, por dios.” Miguel whispered under a strained whine of a breath.

Why? Why did he give in and go to a place he had no business going to? Every slip of the mind, every slip of the tongue, small-minded, aware decision led up to such a thing. He couldn't remember the last time he was ever this stupid that didn't have disastrous consequences. Miguel was a smart man but he wasn't thinking with his head, he was thinking with his dick, which was hardening with every second he spent in this small bathroom with you. It felt like the pale tiles on the walls were thickening by the minute, making it even more impossibly stuffy. Miguel hooked a finger in the collar of his compression shirt, the humidity of each other's company getting worse.

You on the other hand couldn't believe he would even show his face here. You thought that maybe if you were lucky, you'd find someone else to satiate your desires that were never really satiated. Every moment you spent attempting to pry open the door, the more you weren't sure you were handling this. You thought you could. Well, you thought .you could try and keep it to yourself at least, not letting an entirely lewd comment slip from your salivating tongue except for that off-the-record phone call. Maybe at least telling him would alleviate a light fraction of this. Your mouth was full of things you wanted to say, you were sure you were about to burst- so you groaned out instead, the resistance the door providing wasn't helping. Your fist indented into the metal handle, and you realized your strength doubled tenfold while he was in the room. You leaned back on the door and closed your eyes, slumping into the wood. Miguel was pacing before finally gripping his hands onto the sink and hanging his head down, occasionally stealing glances into his reflection. He looked pissed. He was pissed.

He couldn't be anything other than pissed and aroused when you were here, looking delicious in that tiny little bikini. He'd rip it off with his teeth if he had to.

“This is all your fault.”He snapped his unkind gaze back at you, his eyes beaming a deplorable void of blood red. His fangs ripped out of his gums as he stood up straight.

“Oh really?” You crossed your arms, scowling up at his sour expression. “Your 'higher authority' is really pissing me the fuck off right now. What are you doing exactly that's helping the situation?” You pointed an accusing finger at him, unable to control your bare feet inching forward.

“Who was the one that instigated all of this?” Miguel glared at you like you just caused nuclear annihilation.

His lips were split into an unreadable frown, his skin radiated heat and searing hot anger that you were desperate enough to let make your knees buckle and turn limp. It was obvious by the way your eyes widened and the way your lips parted. You paused for a minute to stare at him and it honestly felt like hours, like you could look at him for hours. The tension got thicker and thicker, your eyebrows tensed as your face formed into a desperate wince- whining out. You buried your head in your hands and sighed, rubbing the skin of your face in an attempt to try and compose yourself.

It wasn't working.

You peered back and him and the way he was leaning on the sink with those massive arms crossed, looking down at you with an equally desperate and vacant face he was attempting to conceal made you lean your head back on the door and bite your lip. Miguel was staring at your lips, he wanted to bite them and draw blood as you drooled.

He swallowed thickly. Miguel sighed and raked an impatient hand in his hair to try and stop ogling at you, but it was impossible.

His eyes were designed to stare at you only

His lips to be on yours only.

His hands to feel your skin only.

His cock to be in your pussy.

Only.

“I said don't look at me like that.” He demanded huskily, his eyes dilating beyond comprehension as your mere frame clouded his brain into a hazy yet wild sex-driven lust. Your nipples hardened under the thin fabric, he glanced at them and he wanted to roll his eyes back into his skull. You flashed him a teasing look, unable to control yourself.

“I'm sorry I never listen or do what I'm told.” You gave him a mischievous smirk, not feeling sympathetic in the slightest, sincerity was not evident. You were toying with him and Miguel an itching hungry slice of him was dying to play. “I expect all your women just...do what they're told. Sitting at the foot of your bed like a kicked animal, begging for a good fucking.” You chuckled lowly as you said the words, enjoying the fact that Miguel was starting to play along too, scoffing and smirking at you like you were stupid. His feet were mindless, inching closer and closer to you without even realizing it. Spellbound by your scent, he was wrapped in your game, your mesmerizing fantasy. How many rounds before he realized how near he was to eternal glory, heaven incarnate before reminding the safest place he could be was the void? God, he wanted your heaven though, to lose himself in you.

“What about yours? Your men.” Miguel retaliated but without the force, he usually would, this time he was curious, his voice was low and filled with traces of disdain.

“My men?” You flicked your tongue on your back teeth before presenting him with a faux pout. “Awh my men…”

Your confidence simmered a little when your eyes caught onto the fact he was so close, looming. He put his palms on either side of your head, trapping you and in turn trapping you in this little dance of death that never ended. Eyes widening a twinge, you could clearly see your glinting reflection in the black pits of his iris, his gaze was ravenous, eating you and fucking you with just that. You met him with a half-lidded expression, smiling lazily as his breath was fanning your skin. The way he was this close to you had to be illegal.

“The ones that mediocrely please you, thinking they did something but in reality you were desperate for me...whimpering my name in their ear, making them insecure and questioning who I am...hm?” Miguel smiled crookedly, presenting you with those pearly white fangs as he saw through your side pieces. You were about to start salivating, you wanted to stick your tongue out and lick them for him.

“You think too much of yourself.”

“Oh really? Don't let your ego lie to you.” Miguel chuckled, drinking in every moment of this little interrogation like a thirsting animal, he could do this forever.

“Did they suck your cock in your office, under your desk? How many pitiful blowjobs did you endure? Avoiding me really is shit, huh?” You were mocking him, brows tensing and ensuring he was about to sever a nerve. His nose flared as he breathed deeply, you were enjoying mixing his brain up with every single emotion anyone could ever experience. Miguel felt a chain break inside of him, one of his hands left the door and squeezed your cheeks, turning your head from side to side a fraction as if he was examining you, a whimper left your lips at the contact. He was properly touching you with his cold, apathetic hands. It felt like pure bliss combined with inexplicable torture.

“Such a dirty mouth for someone with such sweet lips.” He cooed, eyes transfixed on such a divine beauty. Your confidence was shattering in his palm, a helpless look swiped across your face and his fingers clutched onto your skin tighter- he felt the blush pierce his fingertips. 'Tell me…” He gritted through trapped teeth “Does it physically hurt when you think about me? How bad you want me.”

Miguel's face was unkind and exceptionally determined, darkened and ashen about all the things he's had to endure when he just merely thought about you.

“You want me to be honest?” You reaffirmed softly, flitting probe on his lips, biting your own to conceal a broken moan that would fall away at any unexpected moment. Miguel sighed raggedly and leaned into yourear, your scent surrounded him and he was hard as a rock. It was his favorite. So sweet. Euphoric.

“Yes.” His hot breath tickled your ear and made the small hairs on your neck stand up. You hummed in agreement, he leaned back and his hungry ogling landed back on your face.

“But I thought we were avoiding each other.” You quipped with that flirtatious smirk that could send any man up to the clouds searching for a paradise that they can't have.

“I don't care. You're mine. Only mine.” Miguel was washed over by a venomous possessiveness, his jealousy knew no bounds when it came to you. It didn't matter if you were on the other side of the world or in front of him, it didn't matter if you were actually together or not, you both wanted each other. You were his. His property. The toy that he could never play with.

“That's a little unfair don't you think?” You pouted again. “You avoiding me makes me mad when you know how much we're both unraveling. You could've cum on my face weeks ago but no, you wanted to stick to your moral code. That seems to be more important to you. ”

“Every time you look at me, I contemplateit.”

“Even now?” You took his hand in yours and placed a taloned finger in between the string that held your bikini at the front, you swiped it down and the string snapped with an unbridled ease. Miguel was following alone with your ministrations like a confused and lost puppy, his face switching between confused, aroused, and amused.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Your tits fell free, nipples hardened and perky under his electricity glare. He was turning into a bloodhound as he saw what he had been fantasizing about in real-time. He swallowed thickly as he witnessed your chest rise and fall, completely hazy and blissed out. Very pleased with yourself. Very pleased. Miguel was enclosed in a state of hunger and itching pain. The more he told himself he wasn't able to do something, the more he wanted to do it, to prove it wrong. It was the hegemonic masculinity rearing its ugly head as always but he just couldn't help it- it was in his DNA. Miguel was a broken man, aching for release from the beautiful torment that your presence constantly provided, that your presence constantly reminded. You had finally done him in, finally made him crack. Tiny beads of sweat dot his forehead, it could be mistaken for dew drops that your soft lips could kiss off, maybe if this were photo season- but alas this was real life and it's been a real fight just to keep his mind from committing treason. But you were here, standing in front of him, you without even uttering the words. Miguel was battling demons, he didn't know how to deal with someone else’s. That's why he never let anyone get too close- except you. Now you were here, begging him to kiss you without even saying it.

“Now...my turn. Tell me...every single thing you've ever wanted to do to me.” You breathed, eyes glinting with a warm and inviting hue, bright and dim all at once, radiating sincerity. You leaned in slightly and poked your tongue out and licked one of his fangs slowly. It felt like his heart was being strangled and his dick was about to break. His blood was roaring. Any remaining shred of consciousness he possessed had disappeared the moment you did that.

Miguel didn't wait anymore, his breath hitched when he grabbed your face harshly and kissed you. His lips seeking to find yours, to taste the forbidden fruit that he longed for, that he tried so long to resist. But his resistance was futile, he wanted to be good but he knew deep down he wasn't. He wasn't a good man, no matter how hard he wanted to convince the world and himself he was, especially his society. Your body stilled and felt like it was about to evaporate due to the sheer heat that was pent up inside your body- now it had a semblance of gratifying release. His kiss was fiery and passionate, angry and desperate as he shoved his tongue in your mouth to taste the wet sweetness he was made to taste. Your lips reciprocated his actions eagerly, grabbing him by the collar and pulling him so close. You moaned into his mouth, eyes screwing shut as his tongue massaged against yours, diving into the back of your throat. A low rumble reverberated in his chest as you let out that pretty sound. The way you were reacting resembled that of a horny virgin that had never been touched. Any other man didn't matter because you weren't touched by him. The thought made him lose it.

Miguel grabbed your hips and held you up, allowing you to wrap your legs around your waist. His hands and fingers gripping onto your smooth skin, talons pinching. He grunted as he hurridly and unkindly sat you on the sink, standing between your thighs. Miguel's hands were rough and calloused, he buried his hands in your hair and pulled hard, your lips biting against his before he kissed the shell of your ear.

“You wanna know? Fine, I'll tell you.” He gritted out through clenched teeth, his jaw grinding together, if he applied more pressure, sparks would fly from his teeth. “You have no idea what I've been through. You think you do but you don't. I have denied everything. Every need, every desire, every urge and impulse I have ever had for you.”He breathed raggedly in your ear, his talons scraping your scalp. “I can't eat. I can't sleep, I can't control myself because of you. Control was the only thing I had left. I should give a shit about losing it but I don't. I can't. You're mine. Only mine. Got it? Any other guy even thinks about looking at you I'll put a bullet between their eyes.” His strained husky whispered taunts made your whole body shudder. You lolled your head back as he kissed and bit down your neck.

This honestly felt like a special event. Like a christening of sorts. Well, christening wasn't really the right word to use considering how filthy you both were.

“Oh, is that right.”

“My property.” He groaned raggedly. The way that word settled on his tongue made you melt, it was like he was made to say that to you.

“Your property? Even though you aren't actually mine and I'm not actually yours?”

The words slipped from your tongue, sending a sour note splattering through you. Why did you even say that? It didn't matter. Well, it didn't matter for now. Maybe it will soon. Miguel was a little stunned by it and he didn't want to think about it either, his stomach flipped and fluttered but he didn't even let a second pass before he suppressed the feeling

“No one else will see me this way. Only you.” He hoped that was enough.

You unhinged your trembling jaw to say something but then you heard a loud bang. You and Miguel both stopped in your tracks and turned your head like antelopes after grazing. You yelped at what you saw at the doorway. It was Peter and he finally got the door open. Miguel's face dropped to an anxious frown, embarrassment radiating off of him at Peter walking in on a scene like this. You immediately crossed your arms and contorted your body away so that he couldn't see the fact that you were topless. “Peter, what the fuck?!” Miguel bellowed.

“Jesus H. Christ.” Peter covered his eyes with his palm, slightly flustered at what he had just witnessed. “What the hell? I thought you guys would've been done by now. I locked the door like half an hour ago! That's more than enough time for you both to finally have the balls to fuck each other.”Alarm bells started ringing in both of your heads, he was the one that purposefully locked the door. What the hell was he thinking? He didn't understand how dangerous it was. Peter walked away as if he didn't see anything, leaving you and Miguel alone together in silence.

Miguel suddenly snapped back into reality, letting go of this mindless fantasy that tethered him to the danger he tried so hard not to give into. His face fell into a frown. What the hell was he thinking? He couldn't do. this. He couldn't have you no matter how much he wanted to. Miguel's mind was running rampant with so many possible scenarios that he may face if he gave in. He gave up too much to stop now. He needed to take into account his society, and his life's work. His mood darkened at the thought. He raked his hands through his hair, before giving you a vacant look, turning back to the normal snippy and angry Miguel everyone knows. It was like a switch was flipped inside of him- he turned back to cold and untrustworthy, looking at you like he didn't even know you.

You raised an eyebrow at his confusing change in demeanor. He shook his head and breathed out as if he was trying to shake the thought of you away from him. He needed to be smart about this, methodical. He couldn't leave you topless like this, your bikini was snapped in half and he most definitely didn't want any other guy ogling at you practically naked. He averted his gaze to show some form of respect and took off his compression shirt and handed it to you to wear and cover yourself up with. You just glared at him, scoffing at his confused actions. Miguel still didn't look at you when you shimmied it on and then as if by magic, he was drawn to stare at you again- in his shirt, ten sizes too big. For a second, Miguel eyed you like a lovesick fool.

Then, as usual, cold. He winced and then left you. Walking out of the bathroom, not even looking twice at you.

-

I DID IT AGAIN IM SORRY. (but if i tell you i have a suprise for you next chapter will u not hate me)

-

taglist (giggles): @thel0velykey190 @scaleniusrm @drefear r @imkikibtw @tbeanie3 @spxctorsslxt @saturnknows @eddiestitmiguelsbigdick k @mafer383 @i-feel-violated @crowleysthings @avatar-lover @l3laze @wyvernnest @rowboatweeb @schniti-is-in-the-house @defnot-bri @awkward-d3rs3-dramer @hasai69 @unnisumi @irongardenermaker @d1lf-loverrr @iamv1n @ro99se @nxrdamp @mrssabinecallas @jesmynsjoys @spiderman2099sgf @xiylio @leahnicole1219 @reine-sans @tallmanlover @neverlandlostchild @axerrri @frieschan @plzfeedmebread @rorel1a @z0mbiekat @rey26 @stunkbiggu u @leshiestybebe @honeycovered-bandaids @leviathans-fish @hearttjason @brittney69 @thyroidissues @4imhry @pinkliquor @realalpacorn @wonylvxz @dr-skazka @simoniithehomii @aisyakirmann @deezisnotreal @synamonthy @bread6069 @iite-cool @thedevax @soymiguelsesposa @heartthrobinsblog

[iliketangerines]

wet dreams

a/n: tsu'tey might be a mean old bastard, but he's my mean old bastard

pairing: tsu'tey x afab!na'vi!reader

warnings: nsfw (MDNI), fingerfucking

Tsu’tey hated you

he is completely sure of that fact, a dreamwalker that had come with Tsyeyk te Suli, and so so infuriating because you struggled to learn anything about the Na’vi way

you flailed in the forest, could barely hold a bow without getting tired or go ride a pali without falling off

the only thing that saved you was how viciously you admired Eywa, how you studied every single thing he gave you and how you tried your best even if you landed face first in the earth

but, he still disliked you

and yet, here you were in his arms, so pliant and soft and pretty as you arch your back and beg for more, tail curling back to reveal your drooling pussy

he doesn’t remember how he got here, and he doesn’t really care as he stares at you

your legs are spread wide, and you turn your head back to look at him with those wide eyes of yours, golden irises a thin ring as you look up at him

you smell so sweet, sound so sweet as you beg him to fuck you, to fill you, and he falls down to his knees on the mossy floor, using his hand to rub at the curve of your ass

his hand wraps around your tail and tugs, listening to your whimper and your gasp, and he watches as your cunt clenches around nothing

for a tawtute, you sure were a pretty little thing, such a beautiful thing underneath his hand, and he slides his fingers through your folds, collecting your slick with them

you whine and try to rock your hips backward and get him to fuck you on his fingers, but Tsu’tey just simply pulls his fingers away until you stop moving

you slightly whimper and clutch onto the mossy ground, begging him to fuck you, and he mumbles for you to have patience

his fingers simply rub against your folds again until he thinks he’s slicked up his thick fingers enough, and he slides them into you, relishing in the little gasp you let out

it’s addicting, the little sounds you make, the pathetic mewls and the small whines of his name, and Tsu’tey pumps his fingers in and out of you

who knew a tawtute could sound so lovely when so debauched

he curls his fingers, searching for that sweet spot that he knows you have, and you let out a breathy gasp as your pussy clenches around him

he smirks and continuously bullies the spot, listening to you moan and watching you buck your hips backward to get him deeper and deeper

he can feel his cock throb in his loincloth, and his free hand comes down to untie it and release himself from his pants

his hand pumps himself, swiping his thumb over the tip and spreading it along the shaft

Tsu’tey bites his lip, fangs digging into the plump flesh, and you rut your hips backward and beg for him to fuck you please, you need him so bad

he cannot resist you, and he stands up on his knees, removing his fingers from your drooling cunt and putting them in his mouth

you tasted sweet as well, and Tsu’tey wants a taste from the source from himself

but then you whine and rock your hips backward, grinding your pussy against his cock, and the thought flies from Tsu’tey’s head as he lines himself up and pushes himself in

you’re so warm, so tight, and so wet, and every time his hips draw back, there’s the loud sound of a squelch filling the forest air

his hand hold onto your kuru, massaging it gently, and it makes you gasp and arch your back even further, begging him to fuck into you

he hums and complies, mind too filled with the haze of pleasure as he brings his other hand down to rub at your clit

it makes your cunt clench down on him, and it causes you to let out a pretty keen of his name as your hands dig lines into the soft dirt

he quickens his hips, letting them hump into you like some sort of feral animal, and by Eywa, he needs to cum in you, needs to cum in you and mark you as his

he’s getting closer and closer, and you beg him to mate with him, please, please you need to feel what he’s feeling when you cum

Tsu’tey moves his hand from your clit to grab his kuru, pulling it from behind his back and watching the pink tendrils curl in the air towards yours

he brings up yours, feeling your pussy clench around him, and he’s so close, about to fall over the cliff and into the vast abyss of pleasure

bringing the end of kuru to yours, he is so close to connecting them

then, his eyes open, and he finds himself in his sleeping pod, cock achingly hard in his tewng, and completely unsatisfied

he looks up and in horror, he finds you staring at him and asking if he’s ready for the lessons today

you don’t seem to notice how he aches for you, and he waves you away and tells you to train with Neytiri and Tseyk te Suli for the time being, he had some important matters to take care of first

not even questioning his order, you leap down from branch to branch somewhat clumsily but much better than your first attempt when you had first arrived at the Omatikaya Clan

Tsu’tey curses under his breath as he gets up and out of his pod

he’ll have to take care of his little problem first

[deadtired-highkeyenergetic]

Nightmares

The start of my Astarion rabbithole begins here...

Summary: You can't sleep without Astarion. Even still, nightmares continue to haunt you but Astarion vows to do all he can to ease your pain.

“Yes darling?” Astarion asks the moment he feels your face collide with his back, lifting his gaze from his book. Your arms wrap around his waist, pressing his body against yours and Astarion will never tell you how much he loves that feeling. No matter what you bribe him with.

You incoherently mumble something in return, burying your face into the back of his shirt.

“I can’t quite make out what you just said, dearest. You’ll have to speak up a bit more,” he bites back a laugh at how you give an angry grumble in response and closes the book, gently prying you off him.

Turning around to face you, he presses a kiss to the top of your head before tilting your chin up so that he can press another kiss to your lips, his cold slender fingers gliding over your warm skin. The tip of his index finger traces along your jawline as he hungrily kisses you deeper, his other hand tangled in your hair.

You kiss him back with equal fervour, eyes closed. His fangs graze your bottom lip, drawing a hint of blood which he immediately licks up, letting out a soft moan at the sweetness that floods his tongue.

“You still have not told me what it is you desire, my sweet,” he nuzzles into your hair, arms wrapped tightly around you. His book lies on the ground long forgotten, all that he can think about is how nice you feel in his embrace, as though you were made for it.

“Cuddle,” you yawn, rubbing your eyes. “Can’t sleep without you.”

“You miss me that much, dearest?” He teases. “Come along then, you need your sleep.” He pretends as though your words haven’t set his ears on fire, that the sudden rush of warmth in his chest wasn’t caused by your proclamation of how much you wanted his presence and gently guides you back to your tent, barely remembering to pick his book up.

Once he’s tucked you into your bedroll, pushing hair out of your face before you start sneezing from the tickles, he removes his tunic and gets comfortable by your side. The moment he lies down, you snuggle up to him, burying your face in his chest. Your body curls up, fitting against his like a puzzle piece.

“Good night, Astarion,” you murmur drowsily.

“Good night, my sweet,” he runs his fingers through your hair, the motion lulling you to sleep like it always does. He relishes in the way your hair smoothly parts for his fingers, the softness of the strands brushing against his skin. Ever since he introduced his hair routine to you, your hair condition had been improving and he was pleased with how much you loved to show it off to him.

It doesn’t take long for you to drift off, lips parting slightly as your chest gently rises and falls with each breath. Astarion enjoys this part of your nightly cuddles the most, it reminds him of why he fights so hard each and every day. If he had to withstand the exhausting hikes, fights and idiocy of the rest of the party just to see the small smile of contentment on your face when you slept, he would do it for an eternity without hesitation. All that mattered to him was that you were happy, safe. Free.

He gently hums a tune he remembers you humming before, resisting the urge to kiss you over and over again, knowing that it would wake you up. His fingers dance along your back, tracing the scars that mar it. He’s long memorised each and every single one of them, whether it be from the passionate nightly activities or simply cuddling, just like tonight. Even though you find them disgusting, he finds them beautiful. They are signs of what has failed to kill you, of what you’ve pulled through. They told those who saw that that you were strong, that you were a survivor.

He finds himself tracing over the thin scar lines along your arm that wrap around like vines. You’ve never told them where you got them from, each time he tries to breach the topic you shy away, changing the subject with a laugh. He knows glimpses of your past from the nights the two of you have sat together under the moonlight, talking about whatever came to mind at the moment, but he never quite got the full picture. You purposely avoided talking about certain things and he never once probed further out of respect for your privacy, but moments like this make him wonder what someone as cheerful and bright as you had been through to become a completely different person when such topics were discussed.

Still, he won’t push you further than you’re comfortable with. You’ve never done it to him, even if it clearly frustrated you how little he was willing to divulge and he respected you for that. You would tell him about the scars on your arm when you were comfortable with it, he knew, and he could wait. He was a vampire spawn, he had the time to wait.

You shift in your sleep, eyebrows furrowed and fingernails digging into the bedroll beneath. A nightmare .

Astarion gently rubs your back, whispering sweet assurances into your ear and pressing his forehead against yours, hoping it will calm you down. The whimper that escapes your lips breaks his undead heart and he wishes he could enter dreams, just so that he could fight off whatever nightmare was plaguing you tonight.

“It’s alright, love. It’s just a nightmare,” he whispers, despising how powerless he is. “I’m always right here, right by your side.”

“Star,” you whimper, eyes cracking open. “Help. Hurts.”

He desperately presses more kisses to the top of your head, holding you tightly. “I’m right here, I’m right here.”

He repeats the three words over and over again like a mantra, cradling you as you cry into his chest, sobs wracking your body. His hand rests on the back of your head, his body curled around yours to shield you from the world.

“Let it all out. No one else is here,” he murmurs. You cry even harder at his words, gasping between each sob until you have no tears left to give. He ignores how your fingernails have dug into his shoulders so much that you’ve drawn blood, far more concerned about how you are feeling.

“I’m sorry,” the words feel thick in your throat. You wipe your eyes, looking up at him with such pain in your eyes and sniffle.

“Don’t be, love. We all need a little space to cry.” He presses his lips to your warm, tear-stained skin, willing all your pain away.

Wrapped in his comforting embrace, you slowly drift back to sleep with the feeling of his hand rubbing circles on your back. Once he’s sure you’ve properly fallen asleep, he lets himself slip into a meditative half-trance, but always keeps an ear out for you just in case. He won’t ever leave you to face your demons alone. You’d do the same for him anyways, he’s just repaying the favour, right?

You reach out towards him in your slumber, throwing an arm around him so that you can pull him closer. Your breath tickles his skin and something within his chest squeezes, taking his breath away.

I love you, his lips form the words but no sound comes out. Watching your now peacefully slumbering form, his undead heart comes back to life but words still fail him. For now, he’ll resign himself to practising the words so that when the moment comes, he will be able to say them, and know you will say them back.